Forgiven Sinners with Backbone
Introduction: The Anatomy of Godly Grief
We live in an age that has mastered the art of the excuse. Our therapeutic culture has provided every man with a prefabricated narrative for his failures, a litany of grievances against his parents, his society, his biology, or his unfortunate circumstances. The modern man is many things, but he is rarely, if ever, to blame. Consequently, he is a stranger to the kind of robust spiritual health that begins with a man on his face before a holy God.
The book of Psalms is the great corrective to this flimsy, self-justifying spirit. The psalmists, and David preeminently, show us what it is to be a real man before the living God. And a real man is one who knows how to own his sin, how to confess it without qualification, and how to feel the appropriate weight of it. But this is not the end of the story. The world offers two dead ends: the dead end of brazenly denying your sin, and the dead end of being crushed and defined by it. The gospel provides the third way, the only way of life. It is the way of confession and absolution. It is the way of the cross.
In this portion of Psalm 38, David gives us a master class in the anatomy of godly grief. This is not the worldly sorrow that leads to death, the kind of despair that drives a man to a bottle or a therapist's couch for validation. This is the sorrow that leads to repentance, the kind of grief that is actually a prelude to war. David is in a bad way. He is physically afflicted, emotionally distraught, and socially isolated. And he knows, at the root of it all, is his own folly, his own sin. But notice what happens. His profound sense of personal failure does not result in him rolling over to let his enemies trample him. Quite the contrary. It is the very act of getting right with God that gives him the backbone to stand in the face of a hostile and godless world. This is the great paradox of the Christian life: true strength is found in the confession of weakness. A man is never taller than when he is on his knees, and he is never more ready for a fight than when he has just surrendered unconditionally to God.
The Text
For I am ready to fall,
And my sorrow is continually before me.
For I confess my iniquity;
I am full of anxiety because of my sin.
But my enemies are vigorous and strong,
And those who wrongfully hate me abound.
And those who repay evil for good,
They accuse me, for I pursue what is good.
(Psalm 38:17-20 LSB)
The Honest Assessment (v. 17-18)
We begin with David's brutal self-assessment.
"For I am ready to fall, And my sorrow is continually before me. For I confess my iniquity; I am full of anxiety because of my sin." (Psalm 38:17-18)
David is at the edge. "I am ready to fall" is literally "ready to limp." He is wounded, crippled by the consequences of his own actions. This is not a man posturing or putting on a brave face for his Instagram followers. This is a man who understands his own fragility. His sorrow is not a fleeting mood; it is "continually before me." It is the first thing he sees in the morning and the last thing he sees at night. It is a constant companion.
And in verse 18, he gives us the reason. He does not blame God. He does not blame his enemies. He does not blame his upbringing. He says, "For I confess my iniquity; I am full of anxiety because of my sin." The word for confess here means to declare, to make it plain. David is not hiding anymore. The game is up. He is laying the whole mess out before the Lord. This is the essential first step to any kind of spiritual recovery. You cannot be healed from a wound you pretend you do not have. You cannot be forgiven for a sin you will not name.
Notice the result of this sin: "I am full of anxiety." The Hebrew word means to be anxious, to be concerned, to be troubled. This is not a clinical diagnosis; it is a spiritual one. Our secular age wants to medicalize this condition, to treat it with a pill, as though it were a mere chemical imbalance. And while the body is certainly involved, David tells us the root cause is ethical. It is sin. Unconfessed sin is a heavy burden. It creates a profound dis-ease in the soul, a friction against the grain of God's created order. When you are out of fellowship with the Author of reality, it is no wonder that reality itself feels threatening and unstable. The only cure for this kind of anxiety is not medication, but absolution. It is to hear the words, "Your sins are forgiven." David's anxiety is a godly anxiety; it is a deep and troubling sorrow over his offense against a holy God. This is the kind of trouble you must get into before you can get out of it.
The Unholy Alliance (v. 19)
Just as David is at his lowest point, his enemies are at their strongest. This is the way of the world.
"But my enemies are vigorous and strong, And those who wrongfully hate me abound." (Psalm 38:19 LSB)
The contrast is stark. While David is limping and sorrowful, his enemies are "vigorous and strong." The Hebrew says they are "living" and "mighty." They are full of life, not in a godly sense, but in the sense of animal vitality. They are thriving. They are numerous. And their hatred is entirely unjustified. They hate him "wrongfully," without cause.
This is a critical point for the believer to grasp. The world does not hate you for your faults; it hates you for your righteousness. They may use your faults as a pretext, as a convenient excuse, but the real offense is your allegiance to Jesus Christ. When you stand for the truth, when you call sin by its right name, when you refuse to bow to the idols of the age, you will be hated. And your enemies will often appear to be winning. They will have the microphones, the money, the political power. They will be vigorous and strong, and you will feel like you are ready to fall.
But David's confession in the previous verses is what prepares him for this reality. A man who has just been undone by his own sin before God is not going to be particularly surprised by the sin of others. He knows what the human heart is capable of. The man who has seen his own desperate need for grace is the man best equipped to stand in a world that is drowning in its own self-righteous rebellion.
The Perverse Inversion (v. 20)
Verse 20 reveals the satanic logic of the world's hatred. It is a complete inversion of all that is good and right.
"And those who repay evil for good, They accuse me, for I pursue what is good." (Psalm 38:20 LSB)
This is the very definition of a wicked man. It is one thing to return evil for evil. That is the basic, fallen logic of the playground. But to return evil for good is a special kind of depravity. It is to hate the light precisely because it is light. David has done them good, and for this, they repay him with evil. This is the spirit of Cain, who murdered Abel because his own deeds were evil and his brother's were righteous (1 John 3:12).
And what is their specific tactic? "They accuse me." The Hebrew word here is related to the name Satan, the Accuser. This is the primary weapon of the enemy: slander, false accusation, character assassination. And what is the grounds for their accusation? It is not because David has done evil. It is precisely "for I pursue what is good."
This is the world system in a nutshell. It is a kingdom of inverted values. It calls evil good and good evil. It puts darkness for light and light for darkness. When you decide to follow Christ, you are signing up to be on the wrong side of this system. When you pursue what is good, you will be accused. When you stand for biblical morality, you will be called a bigot. When you defend the unborn, you will be called a misogynist. When you uphold God's design for men and women, you will be called a hater. Their accusations are not a sign that you are doing something wrong. They are the clearest possible sign that you are doing something right.
The Greater David
As we read this psalm, we must see that David is pointing beyond himself. He is a type, a forerunner of the Lord Jesus Christ. If David was ready to fall, Christ actually fell, under the weight of the cross. If David's sorrow was continually before him, Christ was the "man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." If David confessed his iniquity, Christ, who knew no sin, became sin for us, bearing our iniquity in His own body on the tree (2 Corinthians 5:21).
And if David's enemies were vigorous and strong, how much more the enemies of Christ? He was hated without a cause (John 15:25). He went about doing good, healing the sick and raising the dead, and for this they repaid Him with the ultimate evil, nailing Him to a cross. He pursued what was good, and for this, the great Accuser and his earthly minions leveled every false charge they could muster. They called the Lord of life a blasphemer, a glutton, a drunkard, a friend of sinners, and a worker of satanic power.
David's prayer is ultimately fulfilled in the experience of his greater Son. And because we are united to Christ by faith, this pattern becomes our own. We too must learn to own our sin with the honesty of David. We must confess our iniquity and feel the godly anxiety that leads to repentance. There is no strength to be found in pretending we are strong. Our strength comes from being forgiven sinners.
And once forgiven, once set right with God, we are given backbone. We are given the courage to face a world of vigorous enemies who repay good with evil. We can stand against their accusations, not because we are perfect, but because our Advocate, Jesus Christ the righteous, has answered every charge at the cross. The world will hate you for pursuing good. Expect it. Welcome it. It is the family resemblance. It means you belong to the One who was hated first. So confess your sin, get your forgiveness, and then stand up straight. You are a forgiven sinner, and it is time to get some backbone.