Guessing this is the part of the Confession I have most frequently quoted. It’s desperately needed in our day of cheap grace, following upon a couple centuries of Wesleyan understandings of holiness. (Listening to George Marsden’s Fundamentalism and American Culture a couple days ago on that section of Christian history in US, I keep thinking of you, Ross, and other friends of Pentecostal heritage. If you haven’t yet, you should read it. All of us would understand ourselves and our churches much better for having read it. The Christian Nationalist movement would appear in its constant line of similar postmil frenetic moments across the decades and celebrities of pre-fundamentalism and fundamentalism, for instance.)
Anyhow, preaching in Toledo a couple weeks ago, this is how I used it in the sermon on Psalm 6:
…verse 3 But You, O LORD–how long?
Does this sound like the prayer of the man after God’s Own heart? Does it sound like what you would imagine the prayer of a righteous, of a godly man to be? Does it sound like the prayer of a great warrior king? Of the great theologian who gave us the book of Psalms?
Or does it sound like a negative confession of a timid and faithless man—the sort of man Joel Osteen would never invite to preach at Lakeland?
What megachurch would ever invite such a pathetic man into their pulpit?
What denomination would ever approve such a weakling for church planting?
What pastor would ever allow such a man to be put up for elder by the church’s nominating committee?
Somehow, it’s doubtful Tim Cook and his marketing mavens would give the stage to this guy for one of their Apple reveals.
The world fears weak. The world hates weak. The world denies weak.
Red pill and the manosphere both share the mantra: “ME NOT WEAK!”
But how does the man who denies his weakness ever pray?
How does the man who thinks the definition of manhood is strength—if not actual, nevertheless asserted—pray, taking his needs and fears to God?
Yet here is King David’s simple plea:
3 But You, O LORD–how long?
For years at the end of her life, this was my mother’s prayer. She wanted to be done with earth and this life, and like King David right here, she would ask her Heavenly Father, “O Lord, how long?”
This same plea was John Calvin’s favorite exclamation: “O Lord, how long?”
4 Return, O LORD, rescue my soul; Save me because of Your lovingkindness.
God was absent.
David tells us this by recording this plea he made for God’s return.
We had a man in our congregation once who objected to our use of Psalm 51 as a prayer during worship. He said we should not use it in Christian worship because God would never take the Holy Spirit from a Christian:
(Psalms 51:11) Do not cast me away from Your presence And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.
Of course, we did not stop using it. Our sin does remove God at a distance from us, and thus David here pleads with God:
4 Return O LORD.
It is a terrible thing to experience the absence of God. When He was on the cross, Jesus’ greatest cry of agony was “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?”
Thus we receive this warning, and we receive it in the New Testament:
(Ephesians 4:30) Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.
And this one:
(1 Thessalonians 5:19) Do not quench the Spirit…
The Westminster Confession teaches us this about God’s discipline of the Christian:
True believers may have the assurance of their salvation divers ways shaken, diminished, and intermitted; as, by negligence in preserving of it, by falling into some special sin which woundeth the conscience and grieveth the Spirit; by some sudden or vehement temptation, by God’s withdrawing the light of his countenance, and suffering even such as fear him to walk in darkness and to have no light: yet are they never utterly destitute of that seed of God, and life of faith, that love of Christ and the brethren, that sincerity of heart, and conscience of duty, out of which, by the operation of the Spirit, this assurance may, in due time, be revived; and by the which, in the meantime, they are supported from utter despair. -Chapter 18: Of the assurance of grace and salvation
David here prays:
4 Return, O LORD, rescue my soul; Save me because of Your lovingkindness.
Where would we be without God’s lovingkindness? Is it not our principal plea when we go to Him in prayer?
Then this:
5 For there is no mention of You in death; In Sheol who will give You thanks?
Why does David say this?
For those who believe the Christian is known by his smiles and strict avoidance of any negative confession, Charles Spurgeon explains this statement by King David this way:
And now David was in great fear of death—death temporal, and perhaps death eternal. Read the passage as you will the following verse is full of power. “For in death there is no remembrance of thee; in the grave who shall give thee thanks?”
Churchyards are silent places; the vaults of the sepulchre echo not with songs. Damp earth covers dumb mouths. “O Lord?” said he, “If thou wilt spare me I will praise thee. If I die, then must my mortal praise at least be suspended; and if I perish in hell, then thou wilt never have any thanksgiving from me. Songs of gratitude cannot rise from the flaming pit of hell. True, thou wilt doubtless be glorified, even in my eternal condemnation, but then, O Lord, I cannot glorify thee voluntarily; and among the sons of men, there will be one heart the less to bless thee.”
Ah, poor trembling sinners, may the Lord help you to use this forcible argument. It is for God’s glory that a sinner should be saved. When we seek pardon, we are not asking God to do that which will stain his banner, or put a blot on His [shield]. He delighteth in mercy. It is his peculiar, darling attribute. Mercy honours God. …when [God] gives mercy, [He] glorifies himself.