Oh, What Joy!

Introduction

Hello. My name is Trey Harris.

And I am a sinner.

Not was.

Not used to be.

Not occasionally dabble in brokenness.

No. I am a sinner. That’s not just a statement of humility—it’s a confession. It’s not where I stop, but it’s where I start.

Confession is the beginning of healing.

And Psalm 32 is a roadmap to that healing. It’s not just about saying sorry. It’s about getting your life back. Your soul back. Your joy back.

Because here’s the truth we often forget: Sin isn’t just something we do. It’s something we carry. And when we don’t deal with it—when we hide it, suppress it, or try to “out-good” it—it doesn’t go away.

It goes deeper.

I. The Weight We Carry (verses 3–4)

Sin doesn’t always look like some wild act of rebellion. Often, it’s a quiet weight, something we carry around with us—an invisible heaviness that presses on our souls, our bodies, our relationships, even our prayer life.

David describes it as his strength evaporated. Like summer heat sapping the soul. And here’s the thing—we all know what that feels like. The slow suffocation of spiritual avoidance. Carrying guilt, regret, shame—naming it but never releasing it.

And Paul knew it too. In Romans 7, he puts language to this internal battle: “I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing… What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?” (Romans 7:19, 24)

Paul names what many of us feel: sin is not just an act—it’s a conflict.

It’s a war inside us. A pull. A tension. We want to do good. We try to do good. But still, somehow, we sabotage ourselves. And the weight of that struggle can be crushing.

Let’s go even further back—to the beginning—with Cain in Genesis 4. God speaks a prophetic word to a man on the edge: “Why are you so angry? … Sin is crouching at the door, eager to control you. But you must subdue it and be its master.” (Genesis 4:6–7)

That image is haunting.

Sin is not passive—it’s crouching. Like a predator. Like a shadow at the threshold of your heart. It’s patient. It waits. It doesn’t always leap—it lingers. And when we ignore it—when we try to carry it or tame it—it owns us. It becomes a companion in our thought life, our habits, our hidden places.

Hebrews 12:1 calls us to respond: “Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.”

Sin doesn’t just sit on us—it entangles us. It wraps around our legs while we’re trying to run. It whispers in our ears while we’re trying to worship. And sometimes, we get used to carrying it. But the Word tells us—we don’t have to.

Let’s bring in Proverbs 6:16–19—a strong word, but one we need to hear:

“There are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies, and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.”

None of those sins are private. They have a ripple effect. They tear at the soul and the fabric of the community.

Pride. Deception. Violence. Division. These are the sins that don’t always make the headlines, but they haunt churches, families, friendships. They create burdensnot just for individuals but for whole communities. And if we’re honest—some of those things might be crouching at our doors too. Or maybe we've let them walk right in.

But Here’s the Gospel: You Can Put It Down. This is why Psalm 32 matters so deeply. David says: “When I kept silent… I wasted away.” But when he confessed his sin, everything changed! There is no joy in carrying what you were never meant to bear. But there is deep joy in release.

We don't have to hide anymore. We don't have to manage sin. We get to throw it off. We get to confess it, not with fear, but with faith—knowing that there is a God who lifts burdens, breaks chains, and gives joy.

II. The Turning Point – Confession (verse 5)

“Finally, I confessed all my sins to you and stopped trying to hide my guilt. I said to myself, ‘I will confess my rebellion to the Lord.’ And you forgave me! All my guilt is gone.”

This verse is the hinge. It’s the turning point. He doesn’t minimize. He doesn’t explain it away. He confesses. And what happens? He’s forgiven. Not just pardoned. The Hebrew implies that it’s lifted. Gone. Cleared away like fog in the morning sun.

This is not punitive religion. This is spiritual therapy. The act of confession is not self-hatred. It’s self-healing. It’s soul-level surgery. At Prospect Community Church, we believe in inner healing—not just as a concept, but as a ministry. And that healing begins here: not with hiding, but with honesty.

The church is not a courtroom—it’s a clinic. Not a stage for performance, but a sanctuary for recovery.

III. The Joy of Being Fully Known & Fully Forgiven (verses 1–2, 11)

David opens and ends the Psalm with joy, and it’s not superficial joy. This is a resurrection joy, a joy that comes after the pain, after the burden. This isn’t a polite nod to happiness. It’s an eruption. In Hebrew, the word “joy” here is often used for shouting, rejoicing loudly, even dancing. It’s the kind of joy that can’t stay seated. It’s embodied.

God sees every corner of your story—and He forgives you anyway!

This is the joy David sings about. He’s not rejoicing because he cleaned himself up. He’s rejoicing because even after all he did—adultery, murder, deception—God cleared his guilt.

Friends, this is not a shallow joy. It’s a scarred joy. It’s the kind of joy that comes when you thought you were disqualified, but God said, You’re still mine.

It's the joy of someone who thought they'd never be whole again. Someone who thought they'd never feel peace again. Forgiveness is the song only the broken can sing. And it’s not just that we’re forgiven. It’s that we’re known—and still loved. That’s the scandal of grace. That’s the beauty of the cross.

Can you imagine what kind of church we could be if we lived this out:

A church where it’s safe to be honest.

A church where healing is expected.

A church where joy comes not from pretending to be perfect, but from being deeply forgiven.

I know some of us walk into church weekly carrying invisible chains. But today I invite you all to let those chains hit the floor.

If you’re carrying something heavy—don’t leave with it. If you’ve been hiding something—bring it into the light. Not to be exposed, but to be healed. It’s time to for you to find your joy in forgiveness.

And when that sound echoes in your soul, you don’t just smile. You shout. You dance. You say: Oh, what joy! Because you’ve been seen, forgiven, and freed.”

We are in the season of Lent—a season of reflection, repentance, and return. Today, let this Psalm be more than ancient poetry. Let it be your prayer, your process, your pathway to joy.

This is not just a Psalm. It’s a testimony. And if David were here today, I think he’d say what I said earlier: Hello. My name is David. And I am a sinner. But oh—what joy.