Toward the latter part of the Psalter there is a group of 15 Psalms known as the Psalms of Ascent. Jewish pilgrims sang these 15 Psalms as they made their way to worship in Jerusalem for the three great feasts. The one Psalm I want to focus on this morning from this group is Psalm 130. READ
This was one of Luther’s favorite Psalms. He paraphrased it and set it to music. He said that when he sang this Psalm the very gate of heaven opened up to him.
When Saint Augustine lay dying he had verse 4 hung on the wall at the end of his bed: But with you there is forgiveness therefore you are to be feared. This Psalm is not only part of the Psalms of Ascent it is also the sixth of seven Penitential Psalms.
There are seven Psalms in the Bible that were written – probably by David after committing adultery with Bathsheba – that are known as the Penitential Psalms. Well, Psalm 130 is one of those Psalms.
And it begins in the depths of despair. Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.
I recently watched a woman fall into the depths. My wife and I became grandparents for the first time in September. So naturally, we made the trip to Fort McMurray to see our Daughter, our son-in-law and our precious little granddaughter.
If you’ve ever been to Fort McMurray you know that there isn’t much between Edmonton and Fort McMurray. Rather desolate country. So on the long drive back we stopped off for lunch in Boyle. To be honest, before this trip I did not know there was such a place as Boyle, Alberta.
The only Café in town was called Hooters. I should have known right then that this wasn’t going to be the highlight of our trip north. So we sat down – push the ashtray and the dirty serviette aside and waited. Within a minute a woman around 35 going on 60 came and asked if we would like coffee and passed us two menus.
We ordered. I was sitting so I could keep one eye on the kitchen and one eye on Muriel. Of course, the new grandmother, Muriel, was waxing on and on about how wonderful baby Naomi was and how she was just about the best infant she had ever seen. I was listening, sort of, but my attention was drawn away by what I could see and hear coming from the kitchen. The head cook was scolding our waitress for something. She returned with our food. Then as I dipped my veal cutlet into the gravy there were more strong words between the boss and the waitress. And it was over. She quit. Or was fired. Right on the spot. Right in the middle of our meal.
I could see for just a moment the pain in her face; in her body language. And then she was gone and I turned back to Muriel and the talk about the greatest granddaughter in the world. But I still can’t get that waitress out of my mind. I can feel her pain from the depths. A person who had gone from job to job; from relationship to relationship. And found herself in the pit of despair once more.
There isn’t a person here this morning who hasn’t been in the pit at some time or another in life. Like Hannah in our Old Testament lesson this morning we come to a place of great anguish and grief. It may be the depths of sorrow, the depths of illness, the depths of failure, the depths of a broken relationship, the depths of financial loss, the depths of disappointment. And then comes the hopelessness, despair, depression that overwhelm us in the pit.
As I was putting the finishing touches on this service Friday morning I got a phone call from a friend: one of his co-workers was talking about suicide would I come and talk to him. I met the young man at a coffee shop later that morning. We talked. His ex-live in girl friend had taken off with their child. He was in the pit of despair. He felt he had no reason to live.
The thing that put the writer of Psalm 130 in the Pit of Despair was sin. There is no greatest hole then the one we dig by our own sin. It has been said that “sin will take you farther than you want to go; keep you longer than you are willing to stay; and cost you more than you are willing to pay.”
There are certain things we don’t want others to know about us: Things in our past that we are not proud of.
They are buried in the depths of our being. From our depths we cry out. It could be some loss that makes us cry – but usually it is the loss of relationship with God that really makes us cry. When we come to the depths we cry out to the Lord.
In verse 3 the Psalmist asks a rhetorical question. A rhetorical question is one that does not need an answer – everyone knows the answer. If you kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand in your presence?
That’s like the question a wife asks her husband: Do you think I’m stupid? Don’t answer that question. Don’t go there. There is only one answer. You know the answer.
If you kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand in your presence? There is only one answer: Nobody, nobody would stand in God’s presence if He kept a record of our sins.
Small wonder Augustine kept verse 4 posted at the end of his bed. But with God there is forgiveness!
God wipes it all out. It is as if it had never happened. People may remember; you probability will remember; but God has no recall of that sin. It is one of the miracles of omniscience. It is as if the hard drive of heaven were reformatted. Clean slate.
A new owner of a Rolls Royce broke down in a remote area of France. He called the dealer, who flew in a repairman to fix the car. The next day it was running again and he was on his way. Months later, since he had never received a bill, he wrote the company thanking them for being so responsive to his problems, and he mentioned that he hadn’t received a bill. Rolls Royce wrote back, “We have no record of any Rolls Royce ever having mechanical problems.”
With you, O Lord, there is forgiveness. It never happened. There is no list of your sins. God does not keep a record of our sins. As it says in our reading this morning from Hebrews 10: Their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more.
This is good news! This is The Good News. Let’s suppose I was rushing to get to Church. Speeding. And a cop car pulls up behind me with lights flashing. Walks slowly to my door. He tells me I was going over the posted speed limit – I hate it when they do that – it makes me feel so dumb. I know what I was doing.
So I make sure he can see my Pastor’s Bible sitting on the seat. I tell him I was rushing to get to Church on time. I promise not to do it again. So he says: OK, I will not give you a ticket. I will let it go with a warning this once. Now that is mercy.
But suppose the policeman gives me the ticket I deserve and then reaches into his pocket and pulls out $109 to cover it – that’s grace. I mean, that’s unheard of. Folks, we are saved by grace. God not only gave us the ticket for speeding we deserved but he paid the bill. That’s what the Cross is all about.
Small wonder we sing ‘Amazing Grace’.
Most of us have experienced this Amazing Grace and yet we are a long ways from where we ought to be; where we want to be. We are not totally free from our sinful tendencies. We are pilgrims on a journey - a long ways from Home. That is why the Psalmist adds verses 5 and 6.
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Most of you know that black slaves who lived under the Union Jack were freed a full generation before those living in the States. British slaves were freed by an act of Parliament; American slaves were freed by a terrifying war.
In the West Indies the Act of Parliament stated that all the slaves would be set free in the Colonies at the first light of dawn on the First of August 1830. Most of the slaves in the West Indies never when to bed that night. Tens of thousands of them stayed up all night in church singing, in the street dancing, waiting for the first streak of light that would announce their freedom.
They even sent scouts up into the highest hills to watch for the morning light.
I can understand that feeling – just a bit – for I have been a slave to sin (as Saint Paul says). I have by God’s grace been set free from sin’s penalty but I have been promised that some day I will be set free from sin’s power and sin’s presence. I am waiting for the first ray of light of the new tomorrow.
And in glad anticipation I do a little dancing in the street and a little singing in Church. I put my hope in His Word that some day righteousness will roll down like a river and peace will cover the earth as the waters cover the sea. And I will live in freedom.
I am straining to see the first ray of light. It is so dark where I live. But I wait, I wait for the Lord and in his Word I put my hope.
