Steadfast Love: Letting Go

Psalm 32; Luke 15:1-3,11b-32

Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not hide my iniquity; I said, "I will confess my transgressions to the LORD," and you forgave the guilt of my sin. Selah. Psalm 32:5

I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands." Luke 15:18-19

As Lent winds down, I want to take a moment to check in with you: How is your spiritual journey progressing? Have you been able to stick to your resolutions, whether that means giving up certain things or adopting new practices in your spiritual life?

This season teaches a valuable lesson, similar to dealing with clogged plumbing, which can create a significant mess. When drains become blocked, water overflows onto the floor, and we often close doors to hide the mess. Similarly, when visiting neighbors, they might show you around their home but will avoid one closed door, saying, "Please don't look in there; it's quite a mess." We are all familiar with such situations, as each of us has our own metaphorical closed doors.

Clogged plumbing and closed doors are metaphors for issues everyone faces, such as having a junk room or clogged pipes from time to time. It becomes problematic when these closed doors conceal unconfessed sins, obstructing acknowledgment of God's sovereignty.

Psalm 32 offers valuable insights on how to clear our mess by incorporating “Selah” as a pause throughout the Psalm. The word “selah” has been translated as a breath—a moment for the Spirit to blow through—a time to step back and remember that even reading Scripture prayerfully is a form of dialogue. It’s not just about what we think of it or what we hear in it; it is about what God is saying to us. Listen. Breathe. Pause a moment before you leap in. “Speak, Lord, your servant hears!”

It's important to take a moment to pause and breathe before tackling the task of cleaning out the pipes. The psalmist reminds us that before we remember to breathe and invite God's Spirit, we often feel overwhelmed by our brokenness. "While I kept silence." How long can you remain silent about the clog in the drain or the clutter behind the door? How long can you pretend it isn't that serious, that it doesn't create a divide between you and your loved ones? How long will you hide from the breath of God out of embarrassment for the pollution you've caused in your surroundings? Breath. Allow the Spirit to flow through you before opening the door that you want to keep closed. Selah. Let God in.

The road to happiness is to let go, confess your sins, and receive God’s forgiveness. “Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Happy are those to whom the Lord imputes no iniquity, and in whose spirit, there is no deceit” (32:1-2). The psalm doesn’t deal in metaphors. No clogged drains and locked doors. He used four different words for sin: transgression, sin, iniquity, deceit. To him, anything that gets in the way of letting the breath of God blow through your life needs to be removed and lifted up.

The happiness sought cannot be found outside the relationship with God, outside of full communion with the Spirit. Thinking that there is nothing to confess, nothing for which to pray, nothing that you can’t handle on your own is to choose to live under the weight that crushes bones. It is choosing to live in the desert, dry as a bone.

Breathe. And then open the door, acknowledge your sin, do not hide your iniquity, and confess your transgressions to the Lord in order to receive the forgiveness of your sins (32:5).

That was what the prodigal son did. He realized that things were clogged, that something got in the way of his dream of a better life. And now he was standing in a pig pen up to his knees in a plumbing nightmare. He could have kept tossing out the husks. But, coming to himself, he realized that was not the way to live. He had another option. He could reach out to a community, to a family —the same family he had slapped in the face when he launched out on his own. He knew he wasn’t worthy; at least, that was the speech he rehearsed. He knew he didn’t deserve the love that showered down on him. His brother knew he didn’t deserve it; that’s for sure.

And yet, there it was. Steadfast love surrounded him, even when he ran away, even when he thought only of himself and his immediate pleasure. There was something powerful, transformative, eternal that surrounded him, even though he didn’t deserve it. That is what grace really means. He could have stayed in his certainty, in his self-centered fixation. Or he could have chosen to live in joy, to turn around and wrap himself in the steadfast love that supported him, even when he didn’t realize it or particularly wanted it. He could have chosen to raise his vision enough to see the rainbow in the sky.

You can choose to live in joy. Happy are those to whom the Lord imputes no iniquity. I believe that is what we want. To be happy? Here’s the formula: Heal the breach. Clear and let go of the clog. Open the door. Say, “I’m sorry,” even when you aren’t sure you’re wrong. Apologize for being misunderstood, for being obstinate, and for allowing the clog to continue building. And when the relationships are restored, you can shout for joy. You can laugh again. You can breathe deeply at last in the steadfast love that surrounds you.