Do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions;

according to your steadfast love remember me,

for your goodness’ sake, O LORD! (Ps. 25:7)

How many ways can you say “sin”? Hebrew has three primary words for it, usually translated as “sin,” “iniquity,” and “transgression.” It also has terms commonly rendered as “evil,” “offense,” or “wrongdoing.”

            English has all of those, plus words like wickedness, unrighteousness, immorality, vice, impiety, impiousness, and more.

            We also have a variety of words related to repentance for sin: contrition, regret, remorse, sorrow, self-reproach, shame, guilt. None of those words are particularly pleasant, but we’ve felt them all. We’ve disappointed God, disappointed others, and disappointed ourselves. We’ve made bad choices, taken wrong turns, and generally messed up.

            We have all felt the sting of shame, and we long to be forgiven by those we have hurt, and forgiven by God, as well.

            That’s what today’s text is about: Psalm 25 is a prayer for forgiveness, offered in trust to a gracious God. It’s the sort of prayer we all need to pray from time to time. [DD]

The Revised Common Lectionary reading includes about half of the 22-verse psalm. Typical of acrostics, the poem jumps about thematically, but the primary message can be found in the first 10 verses, so we will focus on those.

Hear me …

(vv. 1-3)

Like several other psalms, Psalm 25 is an acrostic poem, written so that each couplet begins with a sequential letter of the Hebrew alphabet. [DD] It also, like many others, has an editorial superscription with the expression l^edawîd, which could mean “to David,” “for David,” or “belonging to David.”

            The psalmist seeks forgiveness, but offers no clue as to what sins have been committed. That works to the reader’s advantage, for the poem’s lack of specifics makes it easier to put ourselves in the psalmist’s sandals. When we read the psalmist’s plea, we may think of the sins that plague our own consciences. 

            The petitioner begins with an open heart: “To you, O LORD, I lift up my soul.” The use of the covenant name “Yahweh” (LORD) reflects the intimate, personal nature of the prayer. The word translated as “soul” (nefesh) describes one’s essential being, the source of life and identity. To lift up one’s nefesh is to be as open as one can be.

            The psalmist can present himself to Yahweh so freely and deeply because he trusts God to hear the prayer and respond with care. We may have had the experience of confiding in someone who didn’t understand or who told other people what we had revealed in confidence. Fickle friends may let us down, but God can be trusted to hear and understand our innermost fears, thoughts, or confessions – even our doubts.

            The psalmist appears to have sought some outward sign of divine favor that would silence the smug criticism of “enemies” who would find satisfaction in his failure. The word for “put to shame” appears three times in vv. 2-3. The poet pleads that God would not bring shame to those who patiently trust (“wait”) on God, but would humiliate those who are deceitful or disloyal.

            We may wonder if the psalmist had experienced hurt or embarrassment at the hands of someone he had trusted. We may know how that feels – or we may have been the person who betrayed another’s trust and caused them pain. We all could benefit from a good dose of divine guidance to help keep us on the right path.

Guide me …

(vv. 4-5)

The psalmist prayed for God’s guidance in no less than four different ways, asking Yahweh to “make me to know your ways,” to “teach me your paths,” to “lead me in your truth,” and, simply, to “teach me” (vv. 4-5a).

            All four expressions acknowledge that the poet is not only willing but anxious to hear God’s instruction. “Your ways,” “your paths,” and “your truths” were favored terms among Israel’s teachers of wisdom. The terms could refer to any commandments and laws to be found in biblical teaching, but they go beyond that.

            One could learn the commandments and other rules of community living from a human teacher, but the psalmist seeks more. He longs for God’s personal guidance as he deals with everyday situations or makes life decisions that aren’t covered by written laws.

            We are constantly faced with choices as we go through life: where (or whether) to attend college, what job to pursue, who (or if) we will marry, whether we want to have or adopt children.

            We make daily choices about how we will spend our time, our money, and our energy. Do we give these choices a thought beyond our personal preferences, or do we stop to ask God’s guidance? God may not care what we have for dinner, but larger decisions or moral judgments call for deeper reflection. If we want our choices and our lives to honor God, and if we want to be known as upright and faithful people, we need to consider what God might have us do.

            Those who claim that God has a detailed life plan mapped out for us overstate the case. Whether we work for company A or company B may not be of divine consequence as long as we work faithfully and ethically. Whether we marry now, five years from now, or never may not concern God, but how we behave every day clearly does.

            The point is, if we don’t seek God’s guidance and consider whether our plans are in keeping with God’s teachings, we increase the chance of making a wrong turn.

            This is not to suggest that God will always respond clearly or quickly. The psalmist expressed his trust in Yahweh as “the God of my salvation,” for whom he was willing to “wait all day long” (v. 5b). As we read the psalm through the lens of the New Testament, we naturally think of God’s salvation as being an eternal pardon through Jesus Christ. The psalmist’s idea of “salvation,” however, would likely have involved deliverance from some difficult situation or person.

            Both acts of deliverance involve a change of course. We can’t count on a heavenly voice or an angelic finger to point us in the right direction, but as our hearts remain open to God’s leadership, we are more likely to sense what path would be most pleasing to God – and thus most appropriate for us.

Forgive me …

(vv. 6-7)

After humbly beseeching God to hear and to guide, the psalmist turns to a theme that will be repeated in vv. 11 and 18: a plea for forgiveness. We do not know if the poet has any particular sin in mind. Indeed, the request that God not remember youthful sins and transgressions may point to a person of some age who is reflecting on life and hoping that God will overlook former indiscretions in favor of better days. [DD]

            The psalmist does not claim to deserve forgiveness, but pleads on the basis of Yahweh’s constant mercy and steadfast love, which “have been from of old” (v. 6). This reflects covenant language, a clear echo of God’s self-description to Moses: “The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin” (Exod. 34:6-7).

            Thus, the psalmist appeals to God’s faithfulness rather than his own worthiness. Knowing that his life decisions have fallen short, the poet asks for grace rather than what he deserves. [DD]

            The poet’s request that Yahweh would not remember his past failures but “remember” him according to the divine nature of steadfast love and goodness involves more than just hoping God will keep him in mind. In texts such as this, “to remember” is an internal act that has external consequences: God might remember someone because punishment is in order, or remember the obedient by bestowing blessings. The psalmist knows he has not earned God’s favor. That’s why he appeals to God’s mercy, love, and goodness.

Believe me …

(vv. 8-10)

The psalmist turns from prayer to testimony in vv. 8-10, no longer addressing God but whoever might read the poem or hear it recited in worship. Believing that God has heard his prayer, the author declares that Yahweh is indeed “good and upright,” a God who willingly “instructs sinners in the way” (vv. 4-5).

            Such guidance is offered to those who respectfully seek it, for “He leads the humble in what is right, and teaches the humble his way” (v. 9). This reflects the poet’s own reverent approach. 

            The psalmist does not envision a revolving-door relationship of repetitive sin and forgiveness, as if our wrongdoing doesn’t matter so long as we can call upon God’s mercy. He believes that “All the paths of the LORD are steadfast love and faithfulness,” but he also holds that such love and faithfulness are intended “for those who keep his covenant and his decrees” (v. 10). The more the psalmist learns about God’s ways, the more he trusts, and the more faithful he wants to become.

            As the psalmist has come to believe these things about his relationship with God, he wants others to believe that they can also turn from their transgressions and experience undeserved but wondrous grace.

            There’s a good reason why “Amazing Grace” is a perennially favorite hymn. The more we understand the demands of following Jesus’ call, the more we know that we need it.