The heavenly Father is always present in the lives of His children. He sees every sorrow we endure. He also sees every sin that we commit, even if it’s only in our thoughts. He is always present. Yet, He is also always patient. God does not snap at us the second we turn from Him. He gives us time to see the error of our ways. He assures us that the door back to Him remains always open. By giving us room to share our struggles and shortcomings, He works in us the very repentance He desires and saves us from the judgment that would otherwise be ours.

Removing Our Guilt. “The Lord is not slow to do what he promised. . . . Instead, he is patient for your sakes, not wanting anyone to perish, but all to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). Luther began his famous debate theses noting that Scripture’s call to repentance is intended as a way of life. Using David’s great penitential Psalm 51, penned following his affair with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah, we explore the depths of our sinful depravity, the brokenness of our relationship with God, our dire need for rescue, and the good news of forgiveness, cleansing, and rejoicing in our restored relationship with God and the promise of eternal life through Jesus our Savior. Today’s focus is on Psalm 51:8-9 and how God removes our guilt.

The door to God and the glory he has prepared for us stands wide open. However, he has mapped out a very specific pathway to that door. It is not an easy one. As it did with Jesus, this route takes us through opposition, suffering, and even death. While our human nature may cause us to want to take a detour around these things, Jesus’ own life shows us that no detour is allowed. His cross came before his crown. The same path lies ahead of us. However, at the end of it, through the open door, we are offered a reward far superior to anything the world can offer.

If a loved one needed serious heart surgery, would you prefer a first-year medical student to perform the operation, or would you rather it be a seasoned doctor who has done that surgery two-thousand times? How about if you were accused of a serious crime you didn’t commit? Would you be content with a legal intern defending you? Or might you want a more experienced, skilled attorney? You want the person who will best care for you. So, apply that reality to the First Commandment.

When God tells us not to have any other gods, our sinful nature’s first inclination is to think it is because God is a narcissist who craves the attention. That is projecting what we are often like onto Him. But God commands us to have no other gods, not because He seeks attention, but because He knows there is no one who loves us as much as He does…no one who can care for us anywhere close to as well as He can. It is He, by an infinite margin, who can best care for us. Therefore, when we love or trust anyone or anything else more than God, the sin doesn’t simply offend Him. It is incredibly self-destructive. As we begin our worship series on the Ten Commandments, by the Spirit teach us to say, “Lord, have mercy, for our incessant idolatry.”

Normally in a family everyone must do their part. . . pitch in. . . pull their weight. In God’s family, he assigns and accepts the work of one on behalf of all. In God’s house, God’s Son—our brother, Jesus—stands alone on the field of battle against our enemies in our place. He fights vicariously. He fights victoriously.

This week we see one man, Jesus Christ, stand against Satan. We simply sit and watch with eyes full of wonder and repentant faith. Because Christ fought that battle as one of us, he won that battle for all of us. The door to heaven stands wide open for those who believe in him.

Whenever someone accuses us of doing wrong, it’s easy to get defensive. We make excuses. “I’m not that bad.” We try and balance the scales. “Okay, that was wrong. But look at all the good I do!” We play the comparison game. “At least I’m not like him!” When our defenses go up, repentance is impossible.

God, however, has a strategy for lowing our defenses. He assures us that his door is open, and that his home is the place where we don’t need to pretend to be something that we’re not—perfect. Our Father does not ask us to come to him and confess our sin so that he might know what we’ve done. He already knows. He asks us to repent so that we might fully know what we’ve done. Only when we grasp the true weight of our sin, will we call out to God for mercy. When we do, God is always quick to forgive.

Ash Wednesday marks the begging of Lent, reminding us of our mortality and calling us to repent. The ancient practice of imposing ashes on the foreheads of the faithful is what gives Ash Wednesday its name. The church father Tertullian (c. A.D. 160-215) writes of the practice as a public expression of repentance and of our human frailty that stands in need of Christ. Ashes can remind us forcefully of our need for redeeming grace as they recall words from the rite of Christian burial—“earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”—words that will someday be spoken over us all.

Would you look directly at the sun? Only if you wanted to burn your retinas and have permanent blind spots. Would you like to look directly at God? It sounds wonderful in theory. Yet Scripture describes God’s glory as being brighter than the sun. Moreover, one component of God’s glory is his holiness. Being holy doesn’t just mean God loves good; he also hates evil with burning intensity. And we sin every day. No wonder the Lord once told Moses, “No one may see me and live” (Exodus 33:20). Sinners would die of fear if they saw God in all his holy glory.

So, how then can we possibly know God? How can we draw near to him without dying of terror? In our final epiphany moment of this season, God explains. God hides his glory in order to reveal himself. To carry out his good and glorious work of salvation, Jesus hid his glory and went to the cross. To allow sinners to stare at his glory without fear or harm, God hides it in the gospel. In the gospel, we see the glory of Christ’s love, power, and salvation. The reality is that when God’s glory is hidden, it is most on display.

Throughout this season of Epiphany, Jesus has described the governing principles of his kingdom being completely opposite to the governing principles of the world. This week Jesus asks us to befriend our enemies, to love those who hate us, and to repay evil with good. Worldly logic would say that is a recipe for being walked all over. Yet haven’t we seen this tactic work? When we were Christ’s enemies, he loved us to the point of death. He repays our daily wrongs with the daily goodness of his mercy. In doing so, he won us for himself.

Here is the epiphany we badly need to have. Following the strategy Jesus lays out—loving our enemies—is not a capitulation to evil. It is a means of conquering it.

“This is good. That is bad.” We often think life is that simple. We believe we can assess a situation accurately and determine if it is positive or negative. It’s hubris. As Jesus gathered followers, he taught them that his kingdom runs exactly opposite to the principles and priorities of the world. Therefore, much that we think is good is bad, and vice-versa.

If we want to accurately see the world, we need to have this epiphany. That which the world considers a blessing can often be a curse. Things like success and wealth and health can lead us away from our God. We become so enamored with those blessings that we forget about the Blesser. Conversely, there are hidden blessings in what we would normally consider curses. When we fail, when we suffer, and when things don’t go our way, it forces us to put our trust in God and for our souls to be satisfied in him. The reality is that perceived blessings can be cursed and perceived curses can be used for our blessing.