(To the chief Musician. A Psalm of David; when Nathan the prophet came to him, after he had gone in to Bath-sheba.) Be gracious unto me, O God, according to thy loving-kindness; according to the abundance of thy tender mercies, blot out my transgressions.
David prayed this after the prophet Nathan confronted him over Bathsheba and Uriah. Its first line settles how a guilty person may come to God. He asks for nothing on the basis of what he is, and everything on the basis of what God is.
A king had covered up adultery and murder. Nathan's words broke through, and grace answered David at once. But grace was not the only principle at work.
In this Psalm David is going through the deepest soul-searching after his sin with Bathsheba. The parable the prophet Nathan told him had awakened him to a true sense of it... the prophet, led by the Spirit of God, declares, "You are the man!" and then unmasks his wicked course. David, roused out of his spiritual numbness, replies, "I have sinned against the Lord." Grace meets this confession, for he hears, "The Lord also has put away your sin; you shall not die." But grace and government are two different principles. The first says, "The Lord has put away your sin." The second can only say, "The child who is born to you shall die."
David never points to the law of Moses here. One writer explains why the law had nothing to offer him.
"Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love" (v. 1). David was under the law, but here he could not appeal to it. The law gave no sacrifice for such a sin as David had committed. It gave sacrifices for "sins of ignorance." But David sinned on purpose, and he knew how wicked it was. He was king, and under the law he ought to have passed the sentence of death on himself!
Notice what David does not mention in this opening line: his sorrow, his tears, his praying. The two things he names both belong to God.
David comes to God not on the ground of repentance, nor of his own prayers, nor of his own tears. You may repent, and it is a blessed thing if you do. You may pray, and surely it is blessed to pray. You may weep, yes, weep bitter, bitter tears, and this is well. But none of these is the ground on which forgiveness is known... Forgiveness does not come from Him on the ground of what we are, but on the ground of what He is.
David does not ask for a measured amount of mercy; he appeals to a supply that has no limit and no price.
God's mercy is free. To set up merit is to destroy mercy. Nothing can deserve mercy, nor force it... So do not say, "I am unworthy" — mercy is free. If God should show mercy only to those who are worthy, He would show none at all... God's mercy is an overflowing mercy; it is infinite: "Abounding in steadfast love" (Ps. 86:5). "Rich in mercy" (Eph. 2:4). "According to your abundant mercy" (Ps. 51:1). The bowl of wrath drips, but the fountain of mercy flows.
David sets "my transgressions" next to God's mercy. One writer says that is the best thing a guilty conscience can do.
The penitent places his sins side by side with the loving-kindness and tender mercy of God. This was the very best thing for him to do. The best place for a convicted conscience is the presence of divine mercy. When a convicted sinner and divine love meet, there is a speedy settlement of the question of sin. It is the joy of God to pardon sin. He delights in mercy. Judgment is His strange work... This is the order: "You are the man," "I have sinned against the Lord," "The Lord has put away your sin."
The psalm reaches past one man's failure. One writer finds in it both a picture of Judah's future and words that fit any sinner returning to God.
Like all the psalms, this psalm is prophetic. It goes far beyond the circumstances of David's life... David himself is a picture of the remnant of Judah placed under the governmental wrath of God. You can also use this psalm in preaching the gospel. It describes a sinner who returns to God like the prodigal son and says, "I have sinned against heaven and before you" (Luke 15:18). But here we are looking at the special feelings stirred in the soul of a believer who has lost fellowship through his fall, and with it the joy of his salvation.
- Exposed — Nathan said, "You are the man," and David broke. This psalm is what a discovered sinner says.
- Empty-handed — the law offered him no sacrifice for a deliberate sin. As king he should have sentenced himself to death. Mercy was his only plea.
- Ground — repentance, prayer and tears are all good. But none of them is the ground of forgiveness. That ground is what God is in Himself.
- Overflowing — David appeals to God's abundant mercy. Mercy that could be deserved would no longer be mercy.
- Settled — lay your sins beside His loving-kindness and the matter closes: "You are the man," "I have sinned," "The Lord has put away your sin."
Wash me fully from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
David prays this psalm after the prophet Nathan has confronted him and God's light has exposed his sin. Having asked God to blot out his transgressions, he now asks for something deeper — not just a record cleared, but a stain removed.
David uses three different words for wrong in verses 1 and 2. Here is what two of them mean:
Iniquity means what is crooked, warped, twisted. God had a way for David and for us, as straight as His righteous sceptre, but David and every one of us preferred a crooked way. "All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way." … Sin, as David used the word, means missing the mark. God set up His mark for people to aim at. Everyone who has ever entered this world is responsible to glorify God and live to His praise.
One writer sets them in order of severity:
David speaks of his transgressions in verse 1, then in verse 2 of his iniquity and his sin. Sin is the plain word. Transgression goes further, because it breaks a declared law. Iniquity goes furthest of all, and shows a will set on wickedness. Just as David, so Israel is guilty of all of these; but all mankind is just as guilty (Rom. 3:10-19). Everyone needs a thorough washing from iniquity and a cleansing from sin. All of it must go, or there is no salvation at all.
Verse 1 asked God to wipe the record clean. Verse 2 asks Him to deal with what sin has done inside the man:
David did not want only forgiveness for his sins. He needed that, no doubt, but he needed more. He needed inward cleansing from the defiling power of sin itself. The apostle says, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Cleansing from unrighteousness is more than forgiveness of our sins, and David wanted both. Both depend on confessing our sins.
Another writer names the two sides of sin:
We can look at sin in two ways: as an offence against God, or as defilement to the sinner. God has His sovereign rights and claims over all His creatures. That is what makes sin a wrong done to Him, an outrage upon His majesty and glory. Sin in this aspect needs forgiveness… But sin is also, in its very essence and nature, defiling and polluting.
David could not deal with the stain himself, so he asked for the kind of washing given to filthy cloth:
He cannot undo the past, and he had no way to rid himself of the deep stain in his soul. So he pleads for a thorough washing from his iniquity and a cleansing from his sin. He felt that his iniquity had defiled the very fabric of his soul and character. A launderer beats and scrubs a filthy garment to wash it, and David felt he needed washing like that. He longed to hear the word said over him that the priest said over the cleansed and healed leper, when he declared him clean from his plague.
David was king, with a prophet and a priest at hand, and none of it helped:
To whom could he turn for this? Not to Nathan the prophet, and not to Zadok the priest. Even with a king's power he could not lift the burden of sin off himself. His only hope was in God, and here is the gospel. The light that had exposed his sin had also shown him the very thoughts and heart of God, so he looked up in his misery and cried to God.
You might expect his repentance and tears to be what won him a hearing:
David comes to God not on the ground of repentance, nor of his own prayers, nor of his own tears. You may repent, and it is a blessed thing if you do. You may pray, and surely it is blessed to pray. You may weep — yes, weep bitter, bitter tears — and this is well. But none of these is the ground on which forgiveness is known; none of these is the true ground of approach to God. Forgiveness does not come from Him on the ground of what we are, but on the ground of what He is.
- Crooked. "Iniquity" is the crooked path we choose instead of God's straight one. "Sin" is missing the mark God set for every person.
- Rising. The words climb: sin, then transgression against a declared law, then iniquity, a will settled on wickedness. All of it must go, or there is no salvation.
- Deeper. David asks for more than pardon. Forgiveness lifts the charge; washing deals with sin's defiling power inside him.
- Scrubbed. David pictures a launderer beating a filthy garment clean. He longs to hear over himself the word the priest said over a healed leper.
- Nowhere else. No prophet, priest or royal power could remove the stain. David's one hope was God, and he pleaded on the ground of what God is, not on what he himself felt.
For I acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is continually before me.
David wrote this psalm after the prophet Nathan confronted him. He had taken Bathsheba, and he had her husband killed. The verse gives the reason behind his plea for cleansing. It also raises two questions. What does real confession look like? And why does a forgiven man keep his sin in view?
Verse 3 opens with a word of reason. It explains why David can ask God to blot out his sin and wash him. What he leans on is not the size of his repentance but the size of God's mercy.
The psalm opens with a repentant man appealing to the grace and loving-kindness of God. He sees that with God there is an "abundance" of tender mercies, and therefore God's mercy is greater than his sin.
A man can own his sin and still come to God on the wrong ground.
David comes to God not on the ground of repentance, nor of his own prayers, nor of his own tears. You may repent, and it is a blessed thing if you do. You may pray, and surely it is blessed to pray. You may weep, yes, weep bitter, bitter tears, and this is well. But none of these is the ground on which forgiveness is known.
To know your sin here means to own it. Older translations read, "I acknowledge my transgressions." David softens nothing and blames nobody else.
This was true conviction. He made no excuses. He did not blame his circumstances. He did not point at other people. It is simply "I" and "You"; I a sinner, and You the God of truth. The secret of true restoration consists in taking our real place, as sinners, in the light of the truth of God.
Two excuses come up again and again: my circumstances, and my own weakness.
In true confession there is no question of the force of circumstances, nor of one's own weakness... If I look at the circumstances and shelter behind them, I am hiding behind lies.
David does not stop at verse 3. Two verses later he goes behind the deed to what produced it.
Often a soul will judge a particular action and go no further, but this is not yet all the truth in the heart. David judges his action: "For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me" (v. 3). But he also judges his condition: "Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me" (v. 5). It is not enough for him to judge only his sin; he judges sin in him — that which he was from birth.
The order matters: fruit first, then source, then the cry for cleansing.
So he first judges his sins in their evil fruit. Then he traces them back to their corrupt and evil source. Only then does he cry out, "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow."
"Ever before me" describes something David could not put down.
To his conscience that guilt was terribly real. "My sin is ever before me," he said. It caused him constant misery.
Silence has its own price. One writer traces it in another psalm of David.
As long as David kept silent, God's hand was pressing on him. That pressure was there so that confession would break the silence. And when the silence is finally broken, we see it is with God he has to do. So the result of his being with God in confession, and getting pardon from God, is that he has the joy of forgiveness.
The weight is real. But God does not want the man who confesses to keep carrying it.
The Judge of sin does not want the guilty to keep bearing that burden once they acknowledge their transgression and discern their sin. With confession it leaves us and passes to Christ. It does not stay there. It ends for ever through the precious power of His shed blood.
Writers read the psalm on two levels: David's own case, and a confession still to come from a faithful group among the Jewish people.
These are the experiences of a repentant soul. They look ahead to the confession of sin by the godly Jewish remnant in the last days, when they humble themselves before God for the rejection and murder of Christ.
Even so, the psalm stays personal. It remains the experience of one repentant soul.
- Ground. The plea rests on God's loving-kindness, not on the quality of David's tears — mercy that is "greater than his sin."
- Honesty. Real confession drops circumstances and other people. It comes down to "I" and "You."
- Depth. David judges the act (v. 3), then the nature behind it (v. 5) — fruit first, then source.
- Weight. Silence keeps the weight on the conscience. Confession brings "the joy of forgiveness."
- Release. God does not intend the confessor to keep carrying the load — "with confession it departs from us to Christ."
Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done what is evil in thy sight; that thou mayest be justified when thou speakest, be clear when thou judgest.
David spoke these words after Nathan the prophet confronted him over Bathsheba and Uriah. Two things puzzle readers here: the word only, and the reason David gives for confessing — God's vindication, not his own relief.
The word "only" is the problem. David wronged real people. One writer answers the objection by showing what filled David's mind.
We now come to a verse that is a difficulty to some: "Against You... have I sinned." There is no difficulty about that. But he says, "Against You only." Had he not sinned against the woman? Had he not murdered the very man he had sinned against?... He is occupied with God, and with God only. The thought of his fellow man would pass through his mind — "My fellow man! Ah, yes! I have indeed sinned against him. But what is that compared with my sin against You?" It is sin before God, in the sight of Him who is of purer eyes than to look on iniquity. I would not ignore or cover up for a moment the man and the woman I have sinned against, or the evil I have done to my fellow man; but it is before You.
David also had no one else left to make it right with.
Of course, he knew he had sinned against Bathsheba and also against her husband (v. 14). But when he says "against You only," he puts his finger on the most vital point. He said it because he knew he had to deal with God directly about this matter. He could not now apologize to Uriah, and he had already taken Bathsheba as his wife. There was no way he could remedy what he had done, not even by confession.
David names the wrong. One writer contrasts that with vaguer admissions.
A child of God will confess sin in particular; an unsound Christian will confess sin wholesale — he will admit that he is a sinner in general. But David points with his finger to the sore: "I have done this evil." He does not say, I have done evil, but this evil.
The confession does not stop at the act.
Until there is confession of sin, and not merely of a sin, there is no forgiveness. In Psalm 51, when David was confessing his sin, he said, "Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me." He does not merely say, I have done this particular evil. That he does say (vv. 1-4). But he also recognises the root and principle of sin... There is then positive restoration of soul.
The second half of the verse gives the purpose of the whole confession: God comes out right. One writer sets the two verdicts side by side.
It is of the greatest moral importance to see this. Whenever we justify ourselves, we condemn God. And when we condemn ourselves, we justify God. The truly broken and contrite heart will vindicate God at any cost. "Let God be true though every one were a liar, as it is written, 'That you may be justified in your words, and prevail when you are judged'" (Rom. 3:4)... The greatest folly anyone can be guilty of is to justify himself, since God must then impute sin. But the truest wisdom is to condemn oneself utterly; for in that case God becomes the Justifier.
Justifying God costs David every excuse.
"That You may be justified." I do not soften the sin. I do not speak of the poor creature with whom I committed it, or of my reputation before men that weighed so much with me, or even of the man I destroyed to hide my sin. I stand before You in Your sight — bare and naked as the day I was born. Now there is nothing, no hope, no rest, no ground of confidence but in You... Until you know the practical meaning of this, you have some reserve there, something you are not prepared to have searched out.
One writer reads the psalm as a confession Israel has yet to make.
We point out the prophetic meaning of the Psalm. It is the future confession of Israel of their sin and especially the bloodguilt that lies on that nation... When the Jews handed the Holy One over to the Gentiles, they cried, "His blood be on us and on our children!" They will confess this bloodguilt when the Lord comes. They will look on Him whom they pierced and mourn for Him (Zech. 12:10).
- Sight. David sinned in God's sight, so God is the one party he must deal with — the others are beyond apology or repair.
- Named. In God's sight nothing stays general: he points to the sore and says "this evil," not merely that he is a sinner.
- Rooted. Owning the act is only the start. The confession goes down to the root and principle of sin. There restoration of soul begins.
- Justified. Confession clears God, not us. Condemn yourself and God becomes the Justifier; justify yourself and you condemn Him.
- Reach. The same words that broke a king shape the confession Israel will yet make over the blood of the Holy One they handed over.
Behold, in iniquity was I brought forth, and in sin did my mother conceive me.
Psalm 51 is David's prayer after the prophet Nathan confronted him with his sin. By verse 5 he has stopped talking about what he did. He is talking about what he is.
The verse is not about one wrong action, and not about something his mother did. It is about the nature he was born with.
He says, "in sin did my mother conceive me." He is not speaking of a sinful act. Since his mother had a sinful nature, she could only give him the same nature... The teaching of Scripture on this self-judgment is found only in the New Testament, so David did not understand it fully. But he did face the facts honestly here, and that is the first step in finding deliverance from the power of the sinful nature.
David has already owned his transgressions in the earlier verses. Here he goes further and judges the source those transgressions came from.
Where God begins His work of repentance in the soul of a sinner, sin becomes known and judged. It is judged not only by its fruits — that is, sins or evil works — but by its root and inward character... God's word through the prophet Nathan, "You are the man!", had pierced the heart and conscience of the penitent king of Israel and placed him in God's holy presence. So he not only confesses his great transgressions and sins, that is, what he had done, but what he is. He not only judges the bad fruits of the bad tree, but the bad tree itself. Not by way of a light excuse, but in thorough self-judgment... He lays the axe to the root of the tree, to judge not his parents and ancestors, but himself.
Some read the verse as a man blaming his birth to soften his guilt. It is the opposite. The confession costs him more, not less.
He is not making an excuse for his sins, or casting the blame of them upon his mother; he is saying, "My very nature is corrupt, the springs of my being are polluted."
Admitting an offence is one thing. Admitting what produced it is another. That difference decides whether a soul is set right again.
Until there is confession of sin, and not only of a sin, there is no forgiveness... He does not say only, "I have done this particular evil" — that he does in verses 1-4 — but he recognises the root and principle of sin... God has brought the soul down, by the working of His Spirit on it, to detect the principle of sin. So there is confession of that, and not only of a particular sin. There is then positive restoration of soul.
Verse 5 does not stand alone. The next verse asks for truth in the inward parts. A stained record and a stained nature need two different remedies.
These verses trace sin back to its origin. Sin turns out to be not simply sinful acts, but a sinful nature. So the sinner needs not only cleansing from actual sins, but a new nature in "the inward parts."
David is not a special case. This truth is where any understanding of new birth has to begin.
Eve fell, and her fall has involved all the children naturally descended from her. With this truth, sad and humbling as it is, we must begin, or we cannot understand the need for new birth.
This admission is rare in the Old Testament. Its language is usually about guilt for what people do, not about the state they are born in.
Strictly speaking, sin itself does not come into question in the Old Testament, though birth in sin is recognised in one place only (Ps. 51:5)... Being lost and being guilty are different. One is my state; the other is my responsibility and my guilty failure.
One writer sets this verse beside the birth of Jesus. David's confession is the opposite of what was true of Him.
His humanity was holy in itself, without the least trace of sin. David had to confess, "Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me" (Ps. 51:5). David's Lord was that Holy Thing!
("That Holy Thing" is the older wording of Luke 1:35, where the angel told Mary that her child would be called holy, the Son of God.)
- Root. David confesses more than a bad deed. He confesses a bad source: the nature he was born with is corrupt.
- Axe. He lays the axe to the root of the tree. He judges the tree, not only its fruit, and blames himself, not his ancestors.
- Confession. Owning sin, not just a sin, is what turns confession into real restoration of soul.
- Remedy. Cleansing from acts is not enough for a sinful nature. It calls for truth in the inward parts and a new birth.
- Contrast. Everyone born into Eve's family must say this verse. The Son of God never could: His humanity was holy from the start.
Behold, thou wilt have truth in the inward parts; and in the hidden [part] thou wilt make me to know wisdom.
In the verse before, David traced his sin back past the act to the nature behind it. Now he turns to what God wants. The verse sets two things side by side: what God wants deep inside a person, and what only God can put there. Older translations read "truth in the inward parts," and the writers quoted here keep that wording.
A person can look right and sound right. This verse goes past both.
But "You desire truth in the inward parts" — truth, not the look of it, not the profession of it, but the thing itself, the reality of it… You may make a fair outward show. You may make a profession. But until you deal directly with God, you do not know what "truth in the inward parts" is. You may have done good actions… but God must judge them, by His estimate of them, not yours.
God wants truth inside, so outward religion settles nothing. Saul, the king before David, shows what that means.
He had no faith in God, but in the medium at Endor… In earlier days he had wrapped himself in zeal like a garment. Extreme danger strips him of his borrowed robe, and he appears in his own naked unbelief. God judges the heart. "Behold You desire truth in the inward parts" (Ps. 51:6). The piercing eye of God saw no truth in Saul.
One writer takes the phrase literally, down to the organ it names.
The "inward parts" are the reins, the kidneys — hidden in the centre of the body… They work all the time to clean the blood of what would destroy life if it stayed… So their work is the clearest picture of that moral sorting and rejecting of evil which the conscience oversees… There God desires "truth," or steadfast faithfulness. And in the hidden part He makes us know "wisdom" — a word used for telling good from evil… Here the new nature begins to show itself. The conscience wakes up as the heart turns to God.
Many people admit one wrong and stop there. David goes further.
"Truth in the heart" — God's desire, first of all, is to produce this by bringing us into His presence when we have sinned. Often a soul will judge one action and go no further. But that is not yet all the truth in the heart… It is not enough for him to judge only his sin. He judges the sin in him — what he was from birth… Wisdom means seeing these things clearly.
Confession is where that honesty takes shape:
If I confess sin — own all sin as sin — that is truth in the inward parts… So God brings us into His presence knowing we are forgiven. There I know I am cleansed according to God's mind.
The second half of the verse shifts from what God desires to what God will do. David does not promise to produce wisdom; he says God will make him know it.
As light breaks on David's soul, he discovers that God is not indifferent to him… God has desires and plans for him… And David's desire now agrees fully with God's. He wants truth and wisdom in him, the chief marks of a nature he was not born with… God can do this miracle of cleansing, where a new nature replaces the old. Out of the truth and wisdom this renewal puts in his hidden parts, joy and gladness would spring. Creative power belongs to God alone, and only that could bring it about.
Commentators differ on how much David himself grasped. L M Grant says David "did not fully understand it though he did face facts honestly at this time."
What God forms in the hidden place does not stay hidden. It reshapes ordinary dealings.
But truth in the inward parts is what God asks for — true to God, to myself, and to others. True to God, in all His Word asks of me. True to myself, in really being what I am, no more, no less, putting on no false appearances, not deceiving myself. True to others, not deceiving them, avoiding all hypocrisy.
- Inward, not outward. God wants truth in the depths of a person, so appearance and profession settle nothing.
- Inward truth is reality. Not the look of honesty, but the thing itself — measured by God's estimate, not ours.
- Inward honesty goes to the root. Owning the act is a start; owning the nature behind it is the truth God is after.
- Inward wisdom is God's gift. David asks nothing of himself here; the hidden place is where God Himself makes wisdom known.
- Inward truth shows outwardly. What God forms in secret makes a person true to God, true to self, and true to others.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
David prays this after his sin with Bathsheba, and he asks God for two things he cannot do himself. What is hyssop, why that plant, and how can a guilty man end up whiter than snow?
David brings no sacrifice with his prayer. Under the law his sin had no offering attached to it.
When you come to Psalm 51 you find the sin of presumption. There is no question that David knew the awful character of the sin he was committing... Then he felt the weight of that sin, after God touched his conscience through the prophet Nathan. He could not plead ignorance, so he does not presume to bring an offering. The law provided trespass offerings and sin offerings, and offerings for the sin of a ruler too. But he could not bring one. He says God does not desire sacrifice, or he would give it. How could he bring a sacrifice for a sin that God said had no sacrifice?
Notice what the verse does not name. It names the little brush, not the blood.
Here the psalmist mentions nothing that had real power to cleanse, even in the ritual of Moses! The hyssop, of course, was only the tool for the sprinkling that really cleansed. It was used to sprinkle the Passover blood on the doorposts (Ex. 12:22). With cedar and scarlet, it was dipped with the living bird in the blood of its fellow bird. That blood was then sprinkled on the leper to cleanse him (Lev. 14:6-7). It was used in the case of someone defiled by contact with the dead, to sprinkle the water of purification on him (Num. 19:18). There is no other use of hyssop given us in the Old Testament, and it must refer to one of these.
Commentators differ over which of those three ceremonies stands behind the prayer. One writer narrows it to the ordinance of the red heifer, the rite for someone defiled by touching a dead body:
In the ordinance of the red heifer (Num. 19) the hyssop again stands out clearly as the means of sprinkling the blood. And unlike the Passover, here the blood is sprinkled on the person, to cleanse him. So the reference in the psalm would naturally be to this.
Another reads it of the leper's cleansing, and draws out the two halves of the verse — blood first, then water:
He speaks of hyssop, the plant that sprinkled blood on the leper, and then he refers to washing with water. Under the law each sin called for a fresh sprinkling of blood. For us the sacrifice has been offered once for all. But beyond this the believer's soul needs the constant washing of water by the Word. Our High Priest applies it to the defilement we pick up as we walk.
Hyssop sits at the bottom of the plant world, and that is the point of choosing it.
Solomon spoke of all things, "from the cedar tree that is in Lebanon, to the hyssop that springs out of the wall." Hyssop is a little thing. It does not even take root in a decent way, but springs out from between two stones! The cedar and the hyssop are the two extremes in nature, the highest and the lowest. You must take the blood up with a bunch of hyssop. That is, you must go and shelter under that precious blood. And you must go knowing full well that you are a lost soul, without a particle of worth or goodness of your own.
David asks God to do the washing, and rests the outcome on Him. One writer also warns against reading more into the words than they say.
All the psalmist can say is that if God washes him, he will be whiter than snow. In that passage it is not a question of washing with the blood of Christ. What I insist on is this: do not put into a passage what you cannot get out of it.
David names a standard higher than anything in nature.
"Wash me," he prayed, "and I shall be whiter than snow," because the purity needed for God's presence is far greater than earth's cleanest, purest, whitest covering. And he did not pray in vain. God heard his cry and answered him in grace, as he lay in the dust of self-abhorrence.
- No offering. David's sin was deliberate, and the law had no sacrifice for it — so he comes with a prayer instead of a lamb.
- Hyssop, not merit. The little plant never cleansed anything; it only applied the blood that did.
- Lowest first. Hyssop is the opposite of the cedar, so the hand that reaches for the blood is a hand that owns it has nothing of its own.
- God's verbs. "Purge me… wash me" — he asks God to do it, and the whole result rests on God.
- Whiter than snow. David does not ask to look decent. He asks to be fit for God's presence, which is cleaner than the whitest thing on earth.
Make me to hear gladness and joy; [that] the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.
David's prayer names who broke the bones: God Himself. That raises two questions the commentators press — what are the broken bones, and why must a forgiven man ask to hear joy?
The verse does not blame David's enemies or his circumstances for the pain. One writer traces the breaking to God's faithful dealing with sin found in a believer's life, and reads the bones as the strength a man trusts in apart from God:
Unrepented sin in a believer gives occasion for God to deal faithfully with him, judging that sin where He finds it in the lives of His saints. This is how He breaks the bones and sinews of self-confidence. The soul learns to judge itself rightly, in the light of God's holiness and the power of His immediate presence. That prepares it for deeper lessons of divine wisdom and knowledge.
The ear that had been listening to temptation is the ear that must hear joy. And bones are not one limb — they hold the whole body up:
David also asks God to replace his hearing of temptation with the hearing of joy and gladness (v. 8): "let the bones that you have broken rejoice." The bones are the framework of the body. So the person, not his actions, is judged as a whole.
David is not working up gladness. He asks God to do everything, from clearing his conscience to reopening his ear. The prophet Nathan had already confronted him over his sin:
God must do it all. He must purge his conscience, open his ear again to the notes of joy and gladness, and open his mouth to tell transgressors of His ways of love and mercy. He must create a clean heart within him, restore to him the joy of His salvation, uphold him by His free Spirit, and deliver him from bloodguiltiness. In short, Nathan's words fell on David's heart with divine power. He cast the crushing weight of his burden on infinite grace, which works through the precious blood of atonement. So he was brought humbly to rejoice, because the question his sin had raised between his conscience and God was now perfectly settled.
What David asks to hear has a name: good news. One commentator notes that at this point David has only asked for it:
This is gospel, and he knows it as gospel: "Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have broken rejoice." So far it is only a prayer, but it is a prayer God Himself taught him. We too, if the gospel is "good news," should have the joy of the gospel. It is healthy and healing, even for crushed bones. "The joy of the Lord is your strength."
The joy David asks for is measured at the cross. There it is both purified and lifted higher:
The cross is the truth which sets and keeps the tone of all true spiritual feeling. Sin judged there is hated completely. Joyful and happy emotions, on the other hand, are cleared of everything fleshly. They are made sober, and at the same time raised to a still higher level of pure blessedness. This comes by looking at that wonderful truth in which the God of grace and holiness comes nearest to the soul.
God breaks, and God makes the broken rejoice. So this is a state to pray for, not to dread. One writer prays it for a whole company of believers:
May the Lord grant us broken bones, which He makes rejoice; a broken spirit and a broken and contrite heart — the sacrifices of God, which He will not despise. (Ps. 51)
- Broken by God — no enemy or accident snapped these bones. Unrepented sin in a believer draws God's faithful dealing, and what breaks is "the bones and sinews of self-confidence."
- Broken whole — bones are the body's framework. The breaking reaches past the deed to the man. God judges the person, not just his actions.
- Given, not worked up — David cannot restore his own gladness. He asks God to do it all, even to reopen the ear that had been listening to temptation.
- Healed by good news — the joy he asks to hear is gospel. It works like medicine even on crushed bones, for the joy of the Lord is strength.
- Higher than before — the cross clears joy of everything fleshly and lifts it higher. That is why broken bones that rejoice are worth praying for.
Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.
Earlier in this psalm David asked God to wash him whiter than snow. Here he asks God to look away from his sin and wipe the record clean — which raises two questions: why would a man want God to look away, and who can blot anything out?
Sin feels different once a person remembers who is watching. One writer puts that in the first person:
As I look at that sin I am aware that Your eye is on it too, and that is what makes it so terrible to me. Blot it out from Your sight, according to Your loving-kindness and Your many tender mercies. Then, and only then, will it be blotted out of mine.
Note the order. David's own peace follows God's act of blotting out; it never comes first.
The verse names two things — "my sins" and "all my iniquities" — and asks two things for them: hiding and blotting out. One writer notes where this ask falls in the psalm — after David has judged himself:
After the judgment of the person comes the reference to his actions — sins and iniquities. David wanted them hidden and blotted out, and only God in pure grace can do that (v. 9). For this section brings us into the sanctuary, the presence of God, a place that requires complete sanctification.
A person can ask for the guilt to be lifted while still holding on to the sin. One writer calls that prayer wasted:
Take care that you do not pray with a reservation: be sure you give up what you want God to forgive... The one who does not want to be purged from the filth of sin prays in vain to be relieved of the guilt. If we love the work of sin, we must take the wages. A false heart could be willing to have his sin covered, but the sincere man wants his heart to be cleansed. David begged for a clean heart as well as a quiet conscience.
A clean heart takes more than washing. One writer explains why, and adds that believers today should not pray this verse as David did:
But a clean heart needs more than our own purification: "Hide Your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities" (v. 9). God Himself must remember them no more. This was not yet a settled fact for believers in Old Testament times. We believers today should not express ourselves in the same way verse 9 does. But once our hearts are cleansed from all iniquities, we can come before God knowing that He remembers them no more.
David is not asking only for relief. He expects to look into God's face, and that sets the standard for this prayer:
"Hide Your face from my sins," he says; "and blot out all my iniquities." He must have no cloud on that glorious Face, into which he expects to look... But this would be impossible if in that holy Presence a single stain of sin could be found. Here the thought is expressed only negatively and as a prayer... The Christian finds it realised in positive "acceptance in the Beloved" — all the value of Christ is counted to him. Not even the thought of a "Face hidden" is worthy of this.
The prayer was not left hanging. God had already given His verdict on this sin through the prophet Nathan. One writer traces the line from there to the believer's own assurance:
"The Lord has put away your sin," the prophet declared. God, who alone could do it, had done it. David could not put it away; Nathan could not either. God could, and did. Then it could never be charged to David... We know, therefore, that sinners can be assured that no guilt rests on them for what they have done. "The Lord has put away your sin" was the word for David. "I will remember their sins and their lawless deeds no more" is God's word for us (Heb. 10:17).
- Seen. Sin is unbearable because God's eye is on it. David asks Him to blot it out of His sight.
- Owned. David faces himself first, and only then names his acts — the man is judged before the sins.
- Blotted. Only God can hide sin and blot it out, and He does it in grace. David could not erase his own record. No one can.
- Cleansed. A prayer that wants guilt lifted while keeping the sin is empty. The honest heart asks for a clean heart as well as a quiet conscience.
- Settled. David asks that no cloud remain on God's face. Writers point the Christian to "acceptance in the Beloved," with sins remembered no more.
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Cast me not away from thy presence, and take not the spirit of thy holiness from me.
David wrote this prayer after the prophet Nathan confronted him about his sin with Bathsheba. It is the cry of a man afraid of losing two things he cannot live without: God's presence and God's Spirit. Can a believer today pray the same words?
David had watched what happened to the king before him, and that memory shaped this prayer.
The danger of losing the presence, help and power of the Holy Spirit was a very real one. King Saul, Israel's first king, had known the power of the Spirit in his life, but because of his failures the Spirit of God left him (1 Samuel 10:6, 10; 1 Samuel 11:6; 1 Samuel 16:14). Remembering this is what made David pray as he did. Note too that the Spirit of God worked with great power in Samson, a judge of Israel... Then Samson betrayed his Nazirite vow — his vow of separation to God — to the cunning Delilah, and lost his strength. After that, there are no more references to the Spirit working in him.
For David, the Spirit was the very thing that made him feel his sin. And he knew he had no claim left on Him.
Do not take from me the One who presses on my heart and conscience the sense of evil before God; the struggles of a troubled soul; the working of the heart before Him... But David feels that he has forfeited everything — every right, title and claim. God's mercies and steadfast love are the only ground on which God keeps everything He had given him.
David asks first not to be cast away. He does not yet rest in settled assurance of God's favour, but he cannot live outside God's presence.
The soul taught in this way cannot do without the presence of God. Its one dread is to be cast out of it. It does not yet understand grace and the certainty of God's favour, but it cannot do without His presence. To be shut out of that presence would be everlasting misery — and so it truly would be. The more clearly the soul sees Him, the more it feels this.
If the Spirit could be taken from David, what was He doing in believers before Christ came at all?
He prays that this Spirit might not be taken from him, and that he might not lose the sense of his God's presence. The prophet Haggai says this same Spirit stayed with the people after all their failures, and in spite of the exile in Babylon. Some have found this verse difficult; I see no difficulty in it. The Old Testament saints could not have done any good without the Holy Spirit. Take Him from them, and all their joy and comfort ceased and gave way to darkness. This is what David prays will not happen. There cannot be a moment's doubt that the Spirit worked in the Old Testament saints. The question is whether He was present in the same way, living in them, on the ground of Christ's work and glory, joining them to a risen Head in heaven. That, of course, could not be. The work was not yet done, and the man Jesus had not yet entered into the glory.
One writer sets David's prayer beside what Paul writes to Christians about the Spirit.
Notice also how different this is from the language of Psalm 51: "take not your Holy Spirit from me." Paul, even when he presses that we should not grieve the Holy Spirit, never hints that He may be taken away. On the contrary, in the same breath he assures us that He has sealed us for the day of redemption... Where does this difference come from? Not, I hardly need to say, from a higher inspiration in Paul the apostle than in David the king. It comes from the necessary change in the Spirit's relation to the believer, a change God has revealed, since Jesus died and rose and went to heaven.
Cleansing is not where this prayer ends.
Now fit for God's presence, and filled with the Spirit, he would be led back into the joy of salvation. A "willing spirit" would hold him up, in contrast to his past sin in defiance of God. The repentant sinner, now restored, could teach others the ways of God, so that sinners would be turned to God.
- Fear — David prayed with Saul in view: a king who had known the Spirit's power and lost it, as Samson also did.
- Forfeit — He claims nothing. He knows he has lost all right and title, and rests only on God's mercy.
- Presence — What he dreads most is not punishment. It is losing the face of God.
- Change — Jesus died, rose and ascended. Now the Spirit seals the believer for the day of redemption. The warning is no longer that He may leave, but that He may be grieved.
- Purpose — Restoration ends in usefulness. Cleansed, filled and glad again, the forgiven man teaches others God's ways.
Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and let a willing spirit sustain me.
David prays this after the prophet Nathan confronted him over Bathsheba and the death of her husband Uriah. He does not ask for salvation back, but for lost joy and for a willing spirit that God alone can give.
The verse asks for two things. One is joy that had drained away. The other is a willingness inside that would keep him steady. One writer draws the line:
David asks God to restore to him the joy of God's salvation. He does not ask for salvation itself, for he had not lost that, despite his shameful failure. But a person away from God cannot enjoy God's salvation, so this joy had to be restored. He also asks to be upheld by a willing spirit. That seems to be the right translation of the last phrase of this verse. It means that God would work in him a spirit of willingness to obey Him. How much better is this than a selfish spirit of wanting our own way!
Why does joy leave while salvation stays? One writer answers with a picture of a father and a disobedient child sent to stand in the corner:
But soon he comes out of the corner with broken will and broken heart. He confesses the whole thing from first to last, so that you see he hates the disobedience and naughtiness as much as you do. Then you take him in your arms and cover him with kisses. His joy is restored because communion is restored.
The prayer asks God to change the tone of the inner voice. Restoration is not merely being told again that you are safe:
A soul is restored when it enjoys the favour of God, not simply as certainty of salvation, but when the Spirit, instead of accusing, causes it to rejoice in the goodness of God. Restoration is not complete until there is enjoyment of communion with fellow believers.
David has no record to appeal to, and he knows it. One writer marks a difference between David's case and the Christian's:
As Christians we could not say, "Take not Your Holy Spirit from me," for, thank God, the Holy Spirit stays with us to the end. But David felt that he had forfeited everything — every right, every title, every claim. God's mercies and loving-kindnesses are the only ground on which God maintains everything He had given him. So he says, "Take not Your Holy Spirit from me"; "Restore to me the joy of Your salvation"; "uphold me with a willing spirit."
This prayer stands late in the psalm, after the confession and the crushing. One writer traces the order: first anguish, then this plea, then worship:
There was no restored communion here — only anguish and sorrow… Now his real state has been reached, not just the state he felt. He can say, "Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit." Now he can wash his face and anoint himself. He can enter the house of the Lord and worship. A man now who knows his own heart better, and has learned a deeper lesson of the heart of God!
Another writer notes that joy does not usually come back in a rush of feeling:
Restoration does not usually come as a sudden burst of ecstasy, or anything like that. It comes as our thoughts turn away from ourselves to Christ. The Holy Spirit directs our hearts to His love. As we are occupied with Him, the blessedness we longed for is ours once more.
Restored joy does not stop with the one restored:
Others may see and admire the outward results of restoration, but the Lord finds in the restored soul something that delights Him. David confesses his sin and says, "Restore to me the joy of Your salvation." Then he says, "I will teach transgressors Your ways." And as he closes this psalm of repentance, he adds, "then will You delight in right sacrifices." Restored David becomes a blessing to others, but a pleasure to the Lord.
- Kept. Salvation was never in question. David asks only for the joy of it back. Sin costs a believer the enjoyment, not the relationship.
- Lost. Joy goes when communion goes — the child in the corner is still a child, but the kisses wait until the will is broken.
- Asked. He has forfeited every claim, so he pleads on mercy alone. He asks for a willing spirit to hold him up — God working obedience in him, instead of his own way.
- Given. Restoration is not a sudden thrill. The Spirit turns the heart from self to Christ, and the gladness we longed for returns.
- Spent. Restored joy overflows into teaching others. The restored man is a blessing to people and a pleasure to the Lord.
I will teach transgressors thy ways, and sinners shall return unto thee.
In Psalm 51 David prays as a man who has confessed his sin. Verse 13 is the first place where he turns to think of other people, and everything in it hangs on one word: "then."
The verse does not stand alone. It follows David's plea for restored joy, and the order matters. One writer links David's lost influence to his cold heart:
When David wandered from the Lord, he stopped having any influence for good over others. In Psalm 51 we see him repentant. Listen to his words: "Restore to me the joy of your salvation... then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners shall be converted to you." While David's heart was cold, conversions were few.
The same writer turns this on us: "His restored joy would bring blessing to others besides himself. Sinners would be converted. We would not have to mourn how few are converted, if only our hearts were warmer and more open to God's mighty love."
David does not offer his own story as the lesson. One word — "your" — decides what he will teach:
Now he says, "I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners shall be converted to you." See what a wonderful and blessed place he has reached. He does not teach transgressors his ways — sad and sorrowful they had been. He teaches "your ways": your ways of grace, of loving-kindness and tender mercy. He does not say "the righteous," but "sinners." There is no need to tell the righteous of such ways as these. It is sinners who will appreciate them and turn to Him. So I will declare them to sinners. Those who are full of pride and satisfaction with themselves will not care to hear. But those who, like me, know what it is to transgress will hear, and turn to you.
The same writer also notes what David does not teach: "He does not say, 'I will teach the law,' but 'I will teach transgressors your ways, because I have learned them for myself, and in them I have learned you'."
It seems strange that a man who has just confessed his sin should offer to teach others. Yet the failure itself, once God has dealt with it, becomes part of his equipment:
Only when this is true can we rightly teach transgressors God's ways (v. 13). Some have been guilty of transgression, and the grace of God has truly recovered them. This is what equips them to do effective work with others who are caught in sin and transgression. God uses them, sometimes in amazing ways, in the conversion of sinners.
The second half of the verse says that sinners will return to God. Older translations read "converted" here, and one dictionary explains that word:
This is from epistrephō, "to turn to." In Scripture it is the real effect that goes with the new birth: a turning to God. It is beautifully shown in the Thessalonians, who "turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God" (1 Thessalonians 1:9)... In the Old Testament the Hebrew words mean the same: "to be turned," "to turn back." Psalm 51:13.
Blessing to sinners is not the highest result of the verse. The close of the psalm names a second one:
So too with a restored soul. Others may see and admire the outward results of restoration. But the Lord finds in the restored soul something that is a delight to Him. David confesses his sin and says, "Restore to me the joy of your salvation." Then he says, "I will teach transgressors your ways." And as he closes this psalm of repentance he adds, "Then you will be pleased." Restored David becomes a blessing to others, but a pleasure to the Lord.
Some writers also read this psalm as words a repentant Israel will one day use. On that reading, verse 13 points to a future work among the nations:
This psalm is the future confession of Israel for their sin. It will be the time of their deep sorrow, national repentance and weeping. Then they will become the teachers of the Gentiles. They will teach transgressors His ways, so that sinners may be converted to Him. They will sing aloud of His righteousness, when the Lord has taken away their sins.
- Restored first. David teaches transgressors only after he asks for restored joy. While his heart was cold, conversions were few.
- His ways, not mine. He does not teach his own sad story. He teaches God's ways of grace, loving-kindness and tender mercy.
- Sinners, not the righteous. The self-satisfied will not care to hear it; those who know what transgression is will hear, and turn.
- A real turn. To be converted is to turn to God. The Thessalonians turned from idols to serve the living and true God.
- God pleased, not just others helped. The restored soul becomes a blessing to others and a pleasure to the Lord, who is pleased at the psalm's close.
Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O God, thou God of my salvation my tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness.
Having confessed his guilt and begged for mercy, David now names the stain he has not yet named — blood. Here a man guilty of a death calls God his Saviour, and promises to sing of God's righteousness rather than His kindness.
David's sin with Bathsheba involved two evils. Only one of them surfaces in this prayer.
It was not until God sent Nathan to David to expose his guilt that David finally broke down and confessed. His confession involved both his guilt in adultery and his guilt in bloodshed, since he knew he was responsible for the death of Bathsheba's husband. But he mentions only bloodshed in this chapter (v. 14). It stands for Israel's guilt in the murder of the Lord Jesus, and that is by far the most serious sin of their history.
His plea goes straight to God, not to the altar. That was not carelessness. The law had no sacrifice that covered his case.
About himself he could say nothing. He could only admit his guilt and the corruption he inherited from Adam (2-5). But he could throw himself on God's mercy, the unfailing resource for all who honestly turn to it. He could offer nothing to meet his case. The law provided no sacrifice for someone who had sinned deliberately, as he had. Death was its only sentence (Num. 15:30-31). In that situation the only sacrifice God could accept from David was a broken spirit.
The name David gives God answers his own problem.
David appeals directly to God, because, as he states in this section, he can find no relief in sacrifices (v. 14). Only God can deliver him from the guilt of bloodshed — the God of his salvation.
We might expect a guilty man to sing of God's kindness. Instead David names the attribute that should condemn him.
"Your righteousness!" How wonderfully that comes in here! Not "Your grace," but "Your righteousness." Grace, true grace, reigns through righteousness. Through the death of the Lord Jesus Christ, God can be, and is, righteous in forgiving. He is righteous in justifying and receiving all who come to Him through that blessed One. "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins." He loves to restore the soul, but He restores it on this one ground alone. He is faithful and just to Jesus, and therefore faithful and just to us.
Some say this language is too advanced for a man living under the law. Another writer answers that objection.
This sounds too much like the gospel, if we take it in Paul's sense of God's righteousness revealed in the gospel... But it would be folly to measure the depth of an inspired statement by the intelligence (real or supposed) of the writer. Such folly leaves God out of His Word... At the beginning of the psalm he pleaded for mercy according to God's known compassion. That is, he asked God to act in keeping with His own character. That is already the "righteousness" he will sing about once delivered... The cross is the full explanation of this.
One writer sees more here than David's own guilt. He sees a confession a whole nation will one day make.
This is Israel's future confession of their sin, and above all of the bloodguiltiness that rests on that nation... David had bloodguiltiness on him. And when the Jews handed the Holy One over to the Gentiles they cried, "His blood be on us and on our children." They will confess this bloodguiltiness when the Lord comes. They will look on Him whom they pierced and mourn for Him (Zech. 12:10)... They will sing aloud of His righteousness, when the Lord has taken away their sins.
The verse ends with a promise. It sets the pattern for everyone God forgives.
Out of the fullness of his heart his mouth will speak. His theme will be, not himself, but the God of his salvation. He will sing, and show forth, and teach. He will not fear God's righteousness, but will make it the subject of his song. The man who at first hoped only for His mercy will exult in His righteousness!... Shall we be less ready to speak than David was? Shall our lips be silent?
- Guilt named. David names the worst thing he did — bloodshed — and asks God to deal with that.
- Guilt uncovered. The law had no sacrifice for a sin like his. Death was its only sentence, so he had nothing to offer but a broken spirit.
- Guilt taken by God alone. He calls on "the God of my salvation," because God alone can deliver him.
- Guilt answered by righteousness. God forgives on righteous ground. So the pardoned man sings of the very thing that once condemned him.
- Guilt turned to song. The prayer ends in a promise. Lips once shut by shame become a voice that teaches others and praises God — David's, and one day a whole nation's.
Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall declare thy praise.
Psalm 51 is the prayer of a man caught in his sin. By this line he is asking God for something he cannot do himself: the use of his own mouth. Sin had silenced him, and praise, like pardon, has to come as a gift.
Sin shuts a mouth before God opens it. One writer pictures David after his sin, unable to join Israel's songs while others sang freely:
Moses and the people of Israel may sing, "the Lord has triumphed gloriously." Deborah and Barak in their turn may sing, "so let all your enemies perish, O Lord." Songs belong to a glad heart, to those whose own conscience speaks for them. But there could be no music in David's heart now. That heart was no house of praise now. How could David enter the gates at that time and praise the Lord? Those gates open only to the righteous nation that keeps the truth. God had appointed salvation for walls and defences, and praise for gates; but David must be silent there, because he had sinned against the Lord.
David asks God, not a ritual, to reopen his mouth:
David appeals straight to God, for as he says in this section, he can find no relief in sacrifices (v. 14). Only God can deliver him from the guilt of bloodshed — the God of his salvation. That deliverance will set David singing aloud of God's righteousness, in contrast to his guilt. The Lord could open his lips to declare His praise (v. 15).
The psalm moves from cleansing, to deliverance, to song. One writer names what that song is about:
Having sought cleansing from his own sins, the psalmist seeks deliverance from the blood-guiltiness of the nation, guilty of the blood of their own Messiah (Matt. 27:25). Then indeed he would sing of the "righteousness" of God, expressed as we know in the death of Christ. The declaration of the righteousness of God will lead to the praise of the Lord.
Commentators differ over how much David himself grasped. Another writer traces the word back to David's opening plea for mercy:
From the beginning of the psalm he has been pleading for mercy according to the known compassion of God, that is, in keeping with His own character. This is already the "righteousness" he will sing about once he is delivered. The cross is the full explanation of this.
Notice what fills the mouth God opens. Not the sin, and not the sinner:
His mouth will speak out of a full heart. His theme will not be himself, but the God of his salvation. He will sing, and tell it out, and teach. He will not fear God's righteousness. He will make it the subject of his song. At the start he hoped only for God's mercy; now he will rejoice in His righteousness! … Shall our lips be silent? … Are sinners converted to God when we open our lips to speak? They will not be if we grieve and quench the Spirit within us, or if we have lost the joy of our salvation.
The psalm also looks past David. One writer sees a whole nation here, silent until God opens their lips:
He then speaks again of the witness that restored Israel will give to His praise, when their silent lips are opened.
That confession waits for one event — the day they look on the One they pierced:
This is Israel's future confession of their sin, and above all of the blood-guilt that rests on that nation. … When the Jews handed the Holy One over to the Gentiles they cried, "His blood be upon us and upon our children." They will confess this blood-guilt when the Lord comes, when they look on Him whom they pierced and mourn for Him (Zech. 12:10). … Then they will become the teachers of the Gentiles.
Praise here is not a mood. It is something said:
Sometimes people think praise is the feeling in our own hearts. But that feeling is the result of praise, not praise itself. Praise is "the fruit of our lips confessing His name." God values your joy, the happiness that fills your hearts and overflows. But there is one thing He values infinitely more than all our feelings: Christ Himself confessed to God.
- Silence — Sin shuts the mouth. David could not sing with Israel, because his own conscience did not speak for him. The gates of praise stayed shut.
- Prayer — No sacrifice met his case. So he asks God for the one thing he cannot do himself: opened lips.
- Ground — The song that follows is about God's righteousness. Commentators tie that righteousness to the death of Christ, not just to escape from trouble.
- Content — The opened mouth speaks of the God of his salvation, not of itself. Praise is Christ confessed to God, not a warm feeling.
- Reach — The prayer reaches past David to a whole nation. Their silent lips will open when they look on the One they pierced, and then they will teach others.
For thou desirest not sacrifice; else would I give it thou hast no pleasure in burnt-offering.
The prophet Nathan has just confronted David over his adultery with Bathsheba and the killing of her husband. Now David faces a closed altar. God Himself commanded the sacrifices. If He takes no pleasure in them, what can a guilty person bring?
David knew exactly what he was doing. That put his sin out of reach of the offerings.
But in the fifty-first psalm you find the sin of presumption. There is no question that David knew how awful the sin was that he was committing. His conscience and heart had grown hard for the time, and he went on in that terrible course which in effect ended in murder. Then he came to feel that sin, after God had touched his conscience through the prophet Nathan. He could not plead ignorance, so he does not presume to bring an offering. The law provided trespass offerings and sin offerings, and offerings for the sin of a ruler too — but he could not bring that. He says, "You will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it." How could he bring a sacrifice for the very sin for which God declared there was no sacrifice?
David has only one place left to turn: God Himself.
And so the voice of divine mercy is not delayed: "The LORD also has put away your sin; you shall not die." For sin such as his, the law had no offering or sacrifice. Death was the righteous penalty. Only God Himself, on the throne above the king's throne, could set it aside. And this is what he means in his psalm of repentance.
The verse is not a sweeping rejection of sacrifice. And the broken spirit is not a payment put in its place.
In fact, none could be prescribed for sin like this, which greatly limits how absolute this denial is. Here the "sacrifices of God" could only be "a broken spirit"... A broken spirit cannot be the ground that justifies God's grace in salvation. It may describe the moral condition a sinner must meet to be accepted. And this is the only possible thought here. It would not be a broken spirit if it could regard itself as having atoning value in the sight of God. It is the very confession of sin and worthlessness that makes it possible for Him to come in with mercy.
Many people want to hand God something in exchange for forgiveness. This verse cuts that off.
There was no sacrifice available under law for the sin of adultery or of murder. Can we dare to think of giving something up to deserve the salvation of God? Mere pride may think so, but such a thing is repulsive to a God of truth and of grace... This is just the opposite of the pride of trying to appease God by giving Him some material offering. God would absolutely despise the latter, but will not despise a contrite heart.
David was not the first to learn this. Others in Israel had already put obedience above ritual.
Several passages in the Old Testament show that God did not delight in sacrifices offered with a wrong attitude of mind... "Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams" (1 Sam. 15:22).
Even then, the sacrifices themselves were never the real answer.
In many cases the soul had to look outside the sacrificial forms and say, like David, "You will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; You will not be pleased with a burnt offering"... Faith took hold, for salvation, of what these offerings pictured but could not do themselves.
David could only reach forward in faith. Now the work is done.
I would search the whole world for sacrifices, but I cannot speak of them to You. Your steadfast love sweeps them all away... But now One Sacrifice has been offered and accepted too. The blessed Lord was delivered for our offences and raised again for our justification. So God has swept everything away, that we may have to do with Him, directly with Himself, each one.
- Closed altar. The law gave no offering for deliberate sin, so David had nothing to bring.
- Open throne. With the altar closed, mercy alone remained — and it answered at once: "You shall not die."
- No bargain. Offering God something to deserve forgiveness is pride, and He refuses to be bought.
- No merit. Even the broken spirit is not payment; it is the confession of worthlessness that lets mercy come in.
- One Sacrifice. God has now given what the offerings only pictured, so the guilty can come straight to Him.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.
David wrote this after his adultery and the murder of Uriah. The law had no sacrifice to cover a sin like that, so the verse names what he could bring instead — and what God accepts from a guilty person.
David's sin fell outside what the law's sacrifices could cover. One writer traces where that left him:
For himself he could say nothing but admit his guilt and the corruption he had inherited from Adam. Yet he could throw himself on God's mercy, the resource that never fails anyone who turns to it with a truthful heart. He could do nothing but this. He could offer nothing to meet his case. The law made no provision for someone who had sinned deliberately, as he had. Death was its only sentence. In such circumstances the only sacrifice God could accept was a broken spirit. But a broken and contrite heart God does not, and will not, despise.
The psalm speaks of broken bones, a broken spirit, and a broken heart. One writer explains what each one stands for in us:
Jacob needed a whole lifetime to learn what the three things in Psalm 51 mean. There are broken bones — the bones being the seat of our natural strength. There is a broken spirit — the seat of our natural good sense and wisdom. And there is a broken heart — the seat of our natural tendency to idolatry.
Another writer ties a broken spirit to the will:
With a broken spirit, self-will cannot be active. Before he had a broken spirit, David had followed his own will, and it led him into adultery and to Uriah's murder. A broken spirit gives up its own will so that it can depend on God.
Why does God value this state? One writer points to where God chooses to live:
The highest place in heaven is honoured by the presence of the One who still stoops to make the lowly heart His throne. "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise." The God whom the highest heavens cannot contain is the God we may host. But we can only do that by getting down ourselves into the lowest and humblest place. So if we have never met Him, the reason is simple: we have never come down as low as that level of self-judgment where He is found in grace. But when He makes His home in the humble and the contrite, He comes in the sweetness of His love and the tenderness of His mercy, to revive the spirit of His humble ones and the heart of His contrite ones. How blessed to be lowly enough for the lofty One to dwell with us, and contrite — rubbed down — enough for the Holy One to revive us!
A broken heart pays for nothing. One writer shows what it does instead:
The law was completely unable to give comfort or peace to David's soul. Yet he takes hold of God. What we hear is confidence, the confidence of a restored soul. But it does not rest on legal sacrifice. He says, the only sacrifice I can bring is a broken and crushed heart. "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit." God will not despise that. It is the condition of heart that lays hold of the truth of Christ and His precious work.
David's case looks beyond himself. One writer finds both a picture and a pattern in it:
What breaks David's heart is to find himself faced with "bloodguiltiness" (v. 14) and to realise that he had shed the blood of righteous Uriah. This is a prophetic picture of the blood of Christ shed by Israel... But let us remember that God disciplines us to lead us step by step from a true and cleansed heart to a broken heart. That is the only condition that suits us in the presence of the cross. It is the only sacrifice God accepts along with the sacrifice of praise. And it is the only state of heart that does not leave us exposed to fresh falls.
What God refuses to despise, others count as nothing:
This attitude is one the world despises... But the Psalmist could say that such a "broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise." And is not His approval what we should really value?
- Empty-handed. David's sin had no sacrifice under the law; he could offer nothing and had to cast himself on God's mercy alone.
- Broken. A broken spirit gives up self-will and natural wisdom. A broken heart gives up the idols we cling to.
- Accepted. This is the one sacrifice God receives, and the state of heart that takes hold of Christ and His work.
- Indwelt. The God whom heaven cannot contain makes the lowly heart His home, so we meet Him at the level of self-judgment — and He comes to revive us.
- Guarded. God's discipline leads us to this brokenness. It is the only state that fits us at the cross, and it keeps us from falling again.