This sermon was preached at Our Savior on 10/4/09. Text: Psalm 51:1-9. It was the 18th Sunday after Pentecost, but the sermon text is from a series of sermons on the Sunday school lesson for the week.
What Have You Done?
A little boy looks up at his dad. Shattered bits of glass from what used to be a vase lie on the floor next to him. His dad says, "What have you done?" A mom walks up to her daughter and points at a new dent on the back of the car. "What have you done?" she asks. A husband gets home from a few days away on a trip to find that all the rooms of the house have been painted hot pink. With a sigh he says to his wife, "What have you done?"
That phrase can be enough to make us uncomfortable just hearing it. "What have you done?" Every one of you are probably already thinking of times from your past when you were in trouble, and someone called you on it. Answering that question is usually hard for us, because it usually means admitting to something we might not want to admit to. It can make us ashamed. It can make us feel guilty. It can make us angry that we got caught, depressed at what we have allowed ourselves to do, or sad at the hurt we've caused others. Because it can be so uncomfortable, because we don't like to admit our faults, because there might be negative consequences involved with our actions, we don't usually like to answer that question, "What have you done?"
But now imagine that the next time you did something wrong, God himself asked you that question. You do something wrong, you commit some sin -- whatever it is -- and the heavens are opened! A light shines down directly on you and the voice of God himself thunders down at you: "What have you done?!" Not a comfortable situation. Nowhere to run or hide. Your choices are either to think of some excuses (which God would see right through anyway), or to 'fess up and lay it all out on the table, then hope for the best.
This is pretty much what happened to David. No, the heavens didn't open, and God's voice didn't thunder down, but David had the next best thing. The prophet Nathan showed up on God's command and confronted David with his sins of coveting, adultery, deception, and murder. David had nowhere to run or hide. He had to answer for his actions.
Psalm 51, our text for this morning, was written by David after this incident. It not only tells about his experiences from his sins, it speaks to all of us who still sin today. What is your attitude toward the sins you commit? What is your status or relationship with God because of those sins?
The first words of this psalm can give you chills. "Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin." (Ps. 51:1-2) You picture David on his knees with his hands stretched out, pleading. "Have mercy on me, Lord! You got me! I'm guilty! Transgressions, iniquities, sins, whatever you want to call them, I've done plenty. I can make no other plea than guilty. I have no excuse to bring before you. All I can do is plead for your mercy. Please don't punish me like I deserve!"
These words of David just sound right, don't they? They should sound pretty familiar, too. After all, we say them constantly here in our services. In our confession today we said, "I am truly sorry for my sins, and trusting in my Savior, I pray: Lord have mercy on me, a sinner." We sang those familiar words, "Lord, have mercy on us. Christ, have mercy on us. Lord, have mercy on us." A little later we sang something similar, "O Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father, you take away the sin of the world; have mercy on us."
This must be something important if we've said it or sung it so many times already today. But sometimes I have to wonder. Do we mean it anymore? Are we really being like David and getting on our knees, pleading to God? Are we really admitting that there's nothing good in us, that we've failed in every way before God, that we have no excuse, nothing to help our case on our own, that all we can do is plead God for his mercy? Or are we so used to hearing about forgiveness that we don't even think about needing mercy anymore? "Sins? Well, yeah, I guess I do them, but I'm forgiven so it's not really a big deal."
How easy for those words, "Lord, have mercy on me!" to be just that, words. Just sounds our mouths make. Just our way of participating in the service. But are our hearts far away from our mouths? Has the fact that Jesus forgives our sins lead us to use Jesus' forgiveness as an excuse for those sins? "You can't really be mad at me, God! We both know these sins aren't all that serious! Oh, yes, have mercy! Wink, wink! We all know sins are no big deal." That attitude, even if we never express it in words, can easily clunk around in our hearts.
So maybe it's time to really look what's in those hearts. Our psalm says, "I know my transgressions and my sin is always before me." (Ps. 51:3) Do you really know your transgressions? Is your sin right there on your mind at all times? Think about his past week. Think about the actions you have done that go against God. Think about those sins. Can't think of any? Then you're not trying. Thinking of one or two? You're still not trying.
Or, think about your words. You very likely said something during the past week that was hurtful, or misused God's name, or made something God says into a joke. Are you thinking of any? Do you wish you couldn't remember?
Then there's your thoughts. In the time it takes you to say the words "sinful thoughts" you can have dozens of them. They can keep going off like a fire-hose in our mind, and so often it seems like we're powerless to make them stop. We couldn't keep track of these sins if we wanted to, but can you imagine what such a record would look like? It wouldn't be pretty. Like another psalm says, "If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand?" (Ps. 103:3)
Friends, your sins are real! They are real rebellions against God. They are ways that you have twisted God's intentions for your life into an ugly mess. You have crossed the line, again and again. Not only have you missed the bull's-eye of what God wants, you haven't even hit the target.
So, when the voice of God thunders at you, he's right! (Ps. 51:4) Oh, he doesn't thunder his voice out of the clouds; he thunders from his Word. "Whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it." (Jas. 2:10) "Your iniquities have separated you from your God; your sins have hidden his face from you." (Is. 59:2)
Yes, you are Christians. Yes, you're here in church today, but your sins are no less offensive, no less damnable in God's sight. And it's been this way since you were born! As David confesses in our text, "Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me." (Ps. 51:5) These sins aren't a slight problem, a minor blemish. You have been completely corrupted by them. God wants you to know this. (Ps. 51:6) He wants you to recognize this in yourself. He wants you to see how every second of your life since conception, you have deserved nothing but hell.
Lord, have mercy on me. My sins drive me to my knees; God wants these sins to drive you to your knees spiritually. He wants you to be thinking, "Look what I've done! Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner. I plead guilty. Don't treat me as my sins deserve, Lord!"
And you know what? He doesn't. Your heavenly Father has had mercy on you. According to his unfailing love, God the Father sent God the Son. Jesus Christ lived perfectly. He didn't need mercy, because he had done nothing wrong. But according to God's great compassion, Jesus' death blotted out all our sins. Like scrubbing a stubborn stain out of the carpet, Jesus washed us clean in his blood, shed on the cross. He washed us clean in our baptism. He has forgiven you, cleansed you of your sin!
Listen again to David's words in this psalm. "Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean." (Ps. 51:7) Hyssop was the plant that the Israelites used to paint blood on their door frames on the first passover. It was the same plant used to sprinkle blood on Old Testament worshipers to make them "clean" in God's sight. Jesus' blood has made us clean! It has taken your sins away. When Jesus comes to you with his true body and true blood in the Lord's supper, that's what he's doing! He's making you clean! He's saying, "Not only do I forgive the sins of the world; I've forgiven you. Take and eat this body given for you. Drink this blood shed for you! What grace!
And our psalm continues, "Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow." (Ps. 51:7) It won't be long until the snow is falling here in Springville. Well, you know what happens when the snow stays around for a long time without melting? It gets dirty. All the cars driving around leave the snow looking disgusting and black. But then, a fresh batch of lake-effect snow blows in. And suddenly, everything is white. Everything is clean. Christ has done that for you. He's taken the dirt, the grime of your sin, and he has made you clean.
So you can rejoice! Even though the weight of your sins were enough to crush your very bones, you can rejoice (Ps. 51:8), because Jesus has taken that burden on himself. He bore our infirmities and carried our sorrows (Is. 53:4), he took them away, nailing them to the cross. (Col. 2:14) So now, when God looks at us, he doesn't see our sins. He doesn't see our mistakes, rebellions, and failures. He sees the perfection of Jesus Christ. By faith, God has hidden his face from our sins; he has blotted them out by Christ alone. (Ps. 51:9) Never doubt that. Believe it! Rejoice in it!
And when you hear the question, "What have you done?" Whether the question comes from a parent, a spouse, a friend, or from God himself, answer that question. Come clean before God, because Christ has made you clean in his sight. Confess to your God, "nothing in my hand I bring, only to your cross I cling." Then rejoice in his forgiveness. Through no power of your own, your sins have been taken away. Make every day of your life a day of the bottomless sorrow of confession and the limitless joy of forgiveness.