Crying King

7 min read

10 Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

11 Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.

12 Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

13 Then I will teach transgressors your ways, so that sinners will turn back to you.

14 Deliver me from the guilt of bloodshed, O God, you who are God my Savior, and my tongue will sing of your righteousness.

— Psalm 51:10-14

This may be my favorite psalm, as it must be for many—but maybe for the wrong reason.

King David committed crimes that, according to God’s own word, are deserving of death by stoning. He abused his power to basically premeditate his rape of Bathsheba, a beautiful, young woman married to one of his most loyal soldiers, Uriah the Hittite (one of the “thirty”, 2 Samuel 23:39). But Bathsheba became pregnant. And so David tried to cover up his rape by calling Uriah home from battle and getting him drunk so that he would sleep with his wife. But Uriah would not comply out of respect for his fellow soldiers who didn’t have the same luxury. And so David conspired to have Uriah killed in battle, which he was. This was not “friendly fire” but premeditated treachery.

If aborting the baby were possible without actually killing Bathsheba, David probably would have exercised that option. But he thought it more prudent to abort a soul after the the 1300th week or so of life rather than after the first month or so of life. Also, maybe David thought Uriah’s life to be no big deal because he was a foreigner.

Considering David’s sins upon sins, my sins seem to me to be quite holy.

And so, if God could forgive David for his premeditated rape, his premeditated cover-up, and his premeditated murder, not to mention his racism, his lust, his betrayal, his treachery, and his deceit, then surely God will forgive me for all my minor infractions, hallelujah.

But this feeling and thinking inside of me reveals that I am actually a lot more like King David in his sin than I realize. The weight of my sin is not measured by the sin itself but by the holiness of God against whom I have sinned. And besides, if I had the power and the wealth that King David had, would I do any better?

Knowing that I would not, I am brought to my knees, and I cry out for mercy to my God, “Create in me a pure heart and renew a steadfast spirit within me …”

And without faith in Him, without my union with Christ because of faith, what hope could I have of receiving God’s mercy?

But I know, in faith, that God has created in me a pure heart. It is not my own heart, but it is the heart of Christ in me. The steadfast spirit in me is not my own. I have none. But it is the Spirit of Christ who is in me. The Father could no more cast me away from His presence than cast away His own Son from His presence. It is His presence in me that restores the joy of the salvation He freely gives and fills me with a desire for His holiness. And yet my flesh is still so weak, even if my spirit is so willing. And still, because of faith, He delivers me from the guilt of bloodshed—the bloodshed of Cain and the bloodshed of David that is in the DNA of my own spirit.

Because of His mercy, my life bears witness to His mercy and becomes an object lesson for all the other sinners in this world: “Turn back to Christ. Turn back to Christ. Turn back to Christ.” This is my witness. This is my praise.

In Jesus’s name. Amen.