Psalms of Confession and Hope - Psalm 145

Your imagination is an incredible gift. Simply by looking at letters on a page, you can imagine worlds you have never been to. Just by watching a commercial for a local steakhouse, you can imagine what that entrée tastes like. You can think up adventures that you would go on in an alternate universe, or plan a whole future for yourself and your kids. Your brain is capable of some really wonderful things.
Due to sin’s marvelous way of ruining everything, that incredible ability that we have can also be our greatest affliction. You can imagine things alright. You can imagine what “they” are saying about you behind your back after that big flop. You can imagine what disparaging things the people who knew you when you were immature must think of you now. As surely as Seinfeld reruns continue to play on cable TV, reruns of your biggest failures play on the screen of your mind as you try to fall asleep – failures from earlier that day, or from last week, or from decades ago.
As they say, misery loves company. When David says, “Lord … No one living is righteous before you” (Psalm 145:1,2), at least we can know that we’re not alone. At the same moment that you’re beating yourself up over past sins, someone else is probably doing the same. There’s enough guilt to go around. And as David says, standing before a righteous God only casts a greater contrast on our shortcomings.
Why do our brains circulate around our mistakes so much? I wonder if it’s because our mind is trying to “solve” them – pick out something we could have done differently, or remember a detail that might soften the blow of guilt, or worse: try to atone for those mistakes by punishing ourselves with guilt-trip reruns.
The beauty of the Psalms, we are taught what to do with these guilt trips – how to cut off the cycle of shame and self-blame. There is a time and place for apologizing for our sins to the people we’ve wronged, absolutely. But when it’s 2AM and your mind is going off the rails from anxiety over something you’ve done, do what David does in Psalm 145:
He takes his guilt and shame right to God (“I spread out my hands to you; I thirst for you like a parched land” verse 6)
He relies on God’s goodness for relief, not his own (“Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love” verse 8)
Instead of trying to atone for his own sins, he trusts in God’s forgiveness and salvation to carry him out of his misery (“For your name’s sake, Lord, preserve my life; in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble” verse 11).
He finishes by placing his whole self in God’s care, asking for direction (“I am your servant” verse 12).
Let this prayer be your model for the next time your imagination runs wild with guilt and shame over your sin. Because of Christ’s sacrifice for you, you have full access to pray to God boldly. You know God’s love for you is unfailing, because not even death, nor Satan could stop it. You know that God doesn’t hold your sin against you, so when you are tempted to hold your own sin against yourself, bring it to him instead. And if this does happen in the middle of the night (as it usually seems to), after you’ve read Psalm 145, and prayed to God, close your eyes again in the peace and comfort of knowing your sins are forgiven.
God bless your Lenten practice of true repentance, which always results in greater trust in God’s salvation and his unfailing love, which gives us peace that surpasses understanding.





