Unrestrained and Inexhaustible: God’s Mercy Toward Sinners and Saints
There are moments in life that remain with you long after they’ve passed. These are benchmarks. Life-altering events that you could never forget, like the birth of a child or the loss of a loved one. Other times, they happen in your car on a normal Thursday on your way to work.
I can vividly remember pulling out of my driveway a few years ago, angry and frustrated. I’d lost my patience with my children, spoken too harshly to them, but I wasn’t upset with them in that moment. I was the problem. I would repent and apologize, as I had so often done in the past (and have plenty of times since). I was frustrated that I had once again succumbed to my flesh. I was beyond conviction, and had begun settling in the territory of shame. I didn’t feel as though I deserved my children’s forgiveness, much less God’s. But as I drove on, my hands wringing the steering wheel, the Lord began to call to mind my recent study of the life of David, a man who had faced more than his share of life-changing experiences.
There have been few people in history more admired than King David. He was the answer to his people’s prayers and the object of their admiration. He’d slayed the giant as a shepherd with nothing but stones. He’d evaded death at the hands of Saul with little more than cunning. He’d ruled over Israel with heartfelt compassion. And he’d worshiped his God with a humble heart.
But David was still a man, and as with all mankind, a war raged within him. Temptation crouched at his doorstep, and in weakness, he welcomed it in. Sin begets sin, and David’s adultery led to murder and lies and attempted cover-ups. Finally, after being confronted by the prophet Nathan, he bears his soul to God.
Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy
blot out my transgressions. (Ps. 51:1)
The king goes on to confess the severity of his sin while appealing to God as the only source of deliverance, and that appeal is rooted in God’s abundant mercy. Of God’s magnificent attributes, there may be none more astonishing than his mercy toward sinners.
We tend to have a poor understanding of mercy, because it’s so difficult for our finite minds to grasp why an infinitely holy God would withhold punishment where it is justly due. Our propensity is to appreciate and even demand justice until our own case appears on the docket. My own impatience and anger are rooted in pride, a sinful response to recognizing I don’t have the control I so desperately desire. I can forgive myself the first time, but the fifth? The fifteenth? The hundredth? God, of course, is not like us. His very character, while perfectly just, is also exceedingly patient, gracious, and loving. From cover to cover, the Bible teaches us of the breadth and the depth of God’s mercy for sinners and saints alike.
God’s mercy toward sinners is unrestrained. David’s appreciation of God’s abundant mercy is echoed in the writings of Paul. He begins the second chapter of his letter to the Ephesians by reminding us of exactly what we are apart from Christ: dead, enslaved to earthly passions, children of wrath. “But God,” the apostle writes, “being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved” (Eph. 2:4–5). The idea that God is rich in mercy carries with it the connotation of an overflowing abundance; he is so full of mercy that it freely flows out of him, a plentiful fountain of forgiveness beckoning the wayward sinner to come and drink.
Like David, Paul inevitably had a great appreciation for these riches. The chief of sinners, a persecutor of the church, and an oppressor of Christians, he had been in desperate need of mercy. His life had been radically transformed by the mercy of God. Paul understood that God’s mercy toward us is not reticent. He doesn’t grant it reluctantly, considering our past rebellion or the degree of our sinfulness. He doesn’t grant it partially, doling it out little by little, waiting to see how we’ll respond before giving us more. On the contrary, God is generous with his riches. Regardless of the state in which we approach the well of his mercy, we all at once may draw bucket-full after bucket-full, for it is impossible to plumb the depths of his mercy!
God’s mercy toward saints is inexhaustible. In Romans 7, Paul speaks to our continual need for mercy, outlining the battle between the flesh and the spirit. The apostle confesses that he still does the evil he hates and fails to do the good he wants to do. This brings us back to David’s psalm of repentance. The king cries out for mercy, not as an unbeliever confessing his sin for the first time but as one who has tasted the joy of salvation and longs to have that joy restored. Likewise, we recognize that God’s mercy is not just a one-time offer, redeemable upon initial recitation of the sinner’s prayer, nor is it withheld once a certain threshold of sin has been reached. Instead, it is ever available for the contrite of heart, ever effective for the lowly of spirit. We are more likely to exhaust the air that we breathe than the tender mercies of our Creator.
It should be noted that a true appreciation for his mercy would never lead us to take our sin lightly, to toy with temptation and tiptoe along the lines we should never cross simply because forgiveness waits just around the corner. While the penalty for sin has been stayed, earthly consequence for sin remains. The divided kingdom and the Babylonian exile can be traced back to the very sins for which David was repenting in Psalm 51. Just like disease and death, sin’s effects and burdens are borne by those who come into contact with it.
We see this most clearly in the death of Christ. He is the one who suffered both the earthly consequence and eternal punishment for sin, though he was himself without sin. He chose to bear our sin, to become our sin, so that we may receive mercy. His nail-scarred hands and blood-stained brow testify that our penalty was not simply erased but was paid in full. Because of that payment, there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Without his sacrifice, mercy would be unattainable, but because of it, we may now confidently approach the throne of grace, appealing for mercy on the merit of his work rather than our own.
As I drove away from my house that day, the throne of grace bore a striking resemblance to the dusty dashboard of my car.
What are we to do, then? Repent of our persistent trespasses. Revel in God’s abundant mercy. Rejoice in a faithful Savior. My own grief over my sin was met mercifully with patience, grace, and love, and I will forever be grateful for the Lord’s reminder that our sins are indeed many, but his mercy is more.
Josh Kubler lives with his wife, Katie, and their five children in north Mississippi. He is one of the founding members of Redeemer Baptist Church, where he serves as Pastor of Teaching and Community Groups. You can follow him on Twitter as long as you don’t have high expectations.