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A Study of Psalm 32 and David's Journey from Sin to Forgiveness
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When I first became a Christian, for many months I wrestled with shame and regrets for decisions I made before knowing Jesus. I was overwhelmed with a sense of deep pain, shame, and embarrassment—from drugs to being arrested, so much that haunted me.
About 18 months after becoming a Christian, I was asked to share my story at a church in the New Orleans area. As I spoke about God's grace and forgiveness, an elderly lady in the room could tell that even as I talked about forgiveness, I had not fully embraced it myself. I was still carrying shame.
After my talk, she waited until the line cleared, put her hands on my shoulders, and said, "Eric, Romans 8:1—there's no condemnation for those of us who are in Christ Jesus." I thanked her, but she looked directly at me and said, "No, Eric, look at me. Do you really believe Romans 8:1? There is no condemnation for those of us who are in Christ Jesus. You are forgiven fully. You are his. No condemnation."
That moment radically impacted my life. Some of you need to have that moment today. You need to have God's grace and forgiveness fully applied to your life.
We're in a teaching series called When Life Doesn't Make Sense. This weekend, we're talking about what we do when shame overwhelms us or we're filled with embarrassment. We've been looking at psalms that address difficult moments in life.
We're going to examine a psalm that David, the psalmist and king of Israel, prayed to God. Over recent weeks, we've traced David's life: how he was promised to be king, spent his 20s running from King Saul, and when he turned 30, Saul died and David became king. The first years of his reign were amazing—he united the 12 tribes and Israel prospered.
But then 2 Samuel 11 and 12 happened. These events are devastating—not because others were attacking David, but because of what he did to himself. Sometimes the most painful seasons in our lives are self-inflicted wounds. We bring the pain upon ourselves.
In 2 Samuel 11, it's springtime—typically when the king would go to war with all his soldiers. But David thinks, "I don't need to fight. I deserve this season." He sends everyone away, including those who would hold him accountable and stop him from foolishness.
Isolated and bored, David walks on the palace rooftop one night. Scripture says he saw a woman bathing—a very beautiful woman. He asked his men who she was. They sheepishly replied, "Isn't that Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah?" Uriah was one of David's own soldiers, currently fighting on the battle lines.
In that moment, David's boredom, isolation, arrogance, and pride formed a deadly cocktail. He said, "Go get her. I'm the king. I get whatever I want." Bathsheba was brought to David. He slept with her that night, and later she sent word that she was pregnant.
David decided to cover it up. He sent for Uriah to come home from fighting, assuming Uriah would sleep with his wife and everyone would think the child was his. But Uriah was a man of such integrity that he wouldn't go home—he slept on the palace steps, feeling it was his responsibility to protect David.
David's first plan failed. On the second night, he brought Uriah to his home, fed him, and got him drunk, thinking he would finally go sleep with his wife. But again, Uriah slept on the palace steps.
Then David did the unthinkable. He drafted a letter, gave it to Uriah to deliver to Joab, the head of the military. The letter instructed that Uriah be placed on the front lines where the fighting was fiercest. Uriah was killed in battle.
So here was David: a man after God's own heart, completely abusing his position, having committed adultery and now murder. This time it was all him. His choices. Other painful seasons had been caused by others. But this time, David had ruined himself.
In 2 Samuel 12, God sent the prophet Nathan to confront David. Nathan set David up with a brilliant illustration: "There's a man in your kingdom who is filthy rich with tons of cattle and sheep. He has a neighbor who has almost nothing—just one lamb. This lamb is so important to the poor man that it eats at his table; it's like a member of his family.
"One day, the rich man has an out-of-town guest arrive. Instead of killing one of his many cattle to feed the guest, the rich man reaches over the fence, steals the poor man's only lamb, and slaughters it."
David burned with anger hearing this story. "Show me that man! This can't happen in my kingdom. I'm going to fix this!"
Then Nathan looked at David and said, "David, you are that man. You stole from Uriah. Look what you've done with your life."
Here's how we know David is a man after God's own heart—not because he was perfect, but because when confronted, he cried out for forgiveness. He looked at Nathan and said, "I have sinned." He was grieving that he'd broken the heart of God, not just God's commands. He was grieving his own selfishness and his sin.
Nathan told David that God had already taken away his sin, though grave consequences would follow. David then prayed multiple psalms in response to his confrontation.
We have 150 Psalms in Scripture, not given in chronological order but in thematic groupings. Psalm 51 is David asking for forgiveness after Nathan's confrontation. Psalm 32 is David celebrating the forgiveness he has received. Augustine, the early church father, loved Psalm 32 so much that he had it inscribed on his wall. When he woke in the morning, these were the first words he read. When he went to sleep at night, these were the last words he read. Historians say that as Augustine lay dying, he would look at Psalm 32 and relish the beauty of God's forgiveness—because like David, like me, like many of you, he wrestled with shame.
In Psalm 32, David uses three different Hebrew words for sin:
Transgression means rebellion. It's when we look at God, the one we owe our allegiance to, and say, "No. We don't want your way. We want our own way." Imagine your parents asking you on an important evening to take out the trash, and you look at them and say, "No." That's transgression. We've all done this to God.
Sin means missing the mark. God is holy, and when we live unholy, we miss the mark. God is love, and when we're unloving, we miss the mark. God is pure, and when we have impure thoughts, we miss the mark. David owned his sin: "I killed Uriah—I've missed the mark. I lusted after her—I've missed the mark."
Imagine a son who rushes through taking out the trash—doesn't refill the kitchen bag, skips the upstairs bathroom—just wants to say he did it. That's missing the mark.
Iniquity is the deepest word—the twisting of one's heart. David's heart was twisted on the roof. He didn't look for God; his heart was bent out of shape. He looked for something else to satisfy him instead of God.
Imagine a son who carefully goes through the entire house, empties every trash can, puts the bags back, brings them to the street meticulously—but does it all to ask his dad if he can stay up later or have more phone time. He's doing the right thing for the wrong reason. God doesn't want our obedience that way. Iniquity shows the depth of our sin: we can often do the right things for the wrong reasons because our hearts are twisted.
But David also celebrates God's forgiveness. Charles Spurgeon said, "The trinity of God's forgiveness is greater than the trinity of our sin."
Psalm 32:1-2 says: "How joyful is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. How joyful is a person whom the Lord does not charge with iniquity and in whose spirit is no deceit."
Forgiven gives the sense of being carried away. David celebrates: "My rebellion was carried away." For us as Christians, all of our rebellion was carried away when Jesus carried the cross to his death. You don't need to carry your shame any longer. Jesus has carried it away. You've been forgiven.
Covered in the original language means buried into oblivion—completely gone, not just covered like syrup on pancakes where you can still see the pancakes beneath. God has taken your sin and separated it from you as far as the east is from the west. If you've believed in Jesus, your sin is covered because the blood of Jesus has covered all of it. It's completely gone.
Not charged is one powerful word in the original language. It means your sin is not counted against you any longer. All of us have fallen short and made a mess of our lives at some point. But this verse celebrates God's power to forgive: your sin is completely gone from your account. The word gives the understanding of a complete cessation of counting—no more counting against you. Your record is completely clean before a holy God.
Here's the stunning part: we're reading from the Old Testament, but the Apostle Paul quotes from this very psalm as he builds the case that Jesus takes away all our sin.
Paul writes: "To the one who does not work, but believes on him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is credited for righteousness. Likewise, David also speaks of the blessing of the person to whom God credits righteousness apart from works. Blessed are those whose lawless acts are forgiven and whose sins are covered. Blessed is the person the Lord will never charge with sin, will never count sin."
Notice what Paul says: "The one who doesn't work but believes on him." He's not talking about taking a day off from the office. He means the one who doesn't try to work his or her way to God, but believes in Jesus and trusts the finished work of Jesus on the cross.
Here's the gospel: if you believe in Jesus, your sins aren't counted on you. They've been counted on him. Your sins were removed from you and placed on Jesus as he died for you on the cross those six hours on Friday.
What's been charged to your account is the perfect righteousness of Jesus. Therefore, if you believe in Jesus:
Martin Luther, the great reformer, said, "For you to believe that you were forgiven by the grace of Jesus is the hardest thing." If you truly get this, it's because God has given you insight into the beauty of what Jesus did for you on the cross.
I've tried many ways to help people—including my daughters—understand the beauty of the gospel. When my oldest daughter, Eden, was small, we lived in Miami. She came home from a friend's house wanting a sticker chart. She explained that her friend had one on the refrigerator: every time she obeyed, she got a sticker. When the chart was full, she could give it to her parents and they'd take her to the store for a toy.
Eden asked, "Can I have a sticker chart?" It seemed like a great idea. We made one and told her that every time she obeyed—really extra special obey—we'd put a sticker on it.
Within a couple of days, we noticed Eden was obeying to get a sticker. "Mommy, I said please—do I get a sticker? I shared my toy—do I get a sticker?" We realized this was creating obedience for the wrong reason. She wasn't obeying because she loved us or was in awe of being our daughter; she was obeying to get something.
So we decided to take the chart down. After Eden went to bed on day three, I took the sticker chart off the refrigerator—it had about six, seven, or eight stickers on it. I was about to throw it away when I thought, "Let me use this to share the good news of Jesus with Eden."
I filled the entire chart with stickers in every blank spot and even put stickers all around the sides. The next morning, I put it back on the refrigerator. When Eden woke up and came to the kitchen, the first thing she did was check her sticker chart. I saw her eyes go wide because it was completely filled.
I said, "Eden, come sit down," and we sat at the kitchen table. "Eden, did you fill all these stickers? Were you the one who obeyed in such a way to get all these stickers?"
She said, "No."
I said, "That's right. Who do you think gave you all these stickers?"
She said, "Daddy."
I said, "That's right. I gave you all the stickers, but I want you to understand: this is exactly what Jesus does for you. You will never be able to obey in such a way that you can earn his love. You'll never be good enough to get to him. But to know him, you have to be perfect. None of us are perfect. So here's what Jesus did: he came to this world for you. He died on a cross. If you believe in him, all of your sin is placed on him. And he gives you all the stickers. Jesus gives you all the stickers."
I thought Eden had fully understood when she asked, "Daddy, do we still get a toy?" She understood the stickers were there—and she wanted to know about the reward. That's the heart of the gospel. Your sin is gone. You're forgiven. You don't need to carry shame anymore.
