Over Our Hidden Sin

The Lord Has Taken Away Your Sin

3.2.22 [2 Samuel 11-12] River of Life (21st Sunday after Pentecost)

Adam & Eve. Cain & Abel. David & Bathsheba. There are some sins that are so infamous that we can’t imagine what they were thinking. Or if they even were. Reading these Old Testament stories is like watching a car wreck in slow motion. Because of 2 Samuel 11’s clear account, we know exactly what happened. We know all the red flag warnings that David saw and ignored. And there were so many.

One sleepless spring night in Jerusalem, king David went up on the rooftop of his palace. He spied a beautiful woman taking a bath. That was his first chance to (1 Cor. 6:18) flee sexual temptation.

Instead, he sent someone (2 Sm. 11:3) to find out about her. She’s Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite, fighting against the Ammonites in David’s place. Again another red flag warning.

But David ignored them all and sent messengers in the middle of the night to go get her. (2 Sm. 11:4) She came to him and he had his way with her and (2 Sm. 11:4) then she went back home—likely that very night—now that the king’s carnal urges were satiated. That was that. Or so David likely hoped. But sin always spawns more trouble than you initially bargain for.

Bathsheba sent word to David, saying: (2 Sm. 11:5) I am pregnant. David launched into damage control, sending word to Joab, the commander of his army: (2 Sm. 11:6) send me Uriah the Hittite. When Uriah arrived, David played it cool. He asked Uriah how about Joab, the soldiers, and the war. Then David sent Uriah home to wash up, with a gift trailing behind him. David was hoping to make it look like Bathsheba was pregnant because of Uriah. But (2 Sm. 11:10) Uriah didn’t go home. David asked him why and this Hittite, someone that was not a descendent of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob said: (2 Sm. 11:11) The ark and Israel and Judah are staying in tents. My commander and my lord’s men are camped in the open country. How could I go to my house and eat and drink and make love to my wife? As surely as you live, king David, I will not do such a thing. I can only imagine how words must have rung in David’s ears and stung his heart. But I know they didn’t change his plan to cover up his transgression.

Knowing Uriah’s loyalty and integrity David hatched a new plan. He told Uriah to stay one more day. He had a big meal. David gave him too much to drink. David hoped intoxicated Uriah wouldn’t have such integrity. But he was wrong. (2 Sm. 11:13) Uriah didn’t go home. He slept among David’s servants on a mat. In the morning, David hatched a new plan. He wrote a letter to Joab the commander that said: (2 Sm. 11:15) Put Uriah out in front where the fighting is fiercest. Then withdraw from him so he will be struck down and die. Joab knew where the fighting was the fiercest, so that’s where he sent Uriah. And David’s reckless, ruthless plan worked. (2 Sm. 11:17) Uriah died in battle.

Joab sent a messenger back to David with an update on the battle. When David was told that some of his men died, including Uriah, he told the messenger to tell Joab: (2 Sm. 11:25) Say this to Joab: ‘Don’t let this upset you; the sword devours one as well as another. It was chilling to hear how little remorse—if any—David felt in sending one of his own mighty men to die in battle. (2 Sm. 11:27) When Bathsheba heard that Uriah was dead, she mourned for him. A month later, David had her brought to his house. She became his wife. She gave birth to a son.

Watching this all unfold is distressing and disgusting. But we know so much more about what really happened than most of David’s people did at the time. Beyond a few messengers and Bathsheba, it seems David had kept the whole affair under wraps. Joab knew that David ordered Uriah’s death, but was never given any reason why. Bathsheba knew of their adultery, but wasn’t privy to details about Uriah’s return or how David masterminded his murder. David strategically built firewalls between his iniquities. A few people knew a few, little bits and pieces—but only David knew it all. Who would even suspect David of such dark and depraved behavior? (1 Sm. 13:14; Acts 13:22) David was the man after the Lord’s own heart. (1 Sm. 22:9-11) David was the man who wouldn’t even lay a hand on Saul because he was the Lord’s anointed. Perhaps some even thought David was being kind by taking the young widow Bathsheba into his palace after her husband lost his life in battle.

David went to tremendous lengths to appear to be a good guy who does the right thing. He was willing to sacrifice anyone to keep his sterling reputation. He was willing to go to great lengths to keep his sin hidden. (2 Sm. 11:27) But the thing David had done was known by God and it displeased the Lord.

So it is with us. We are no less attached to our good names and reputations. How many times have you committed compounding sins all in an effort to preserve your sterling reputation? In a moment of selfishness and reckless wickedness, we have ignored all the spiritual red-flags—just like David did.

We have entertained sexually immoral thoughts—lusted after those who are not our spouses, ever or just not yet.

Husbands, do you rejoice daily (Pr. 5:18) in the wife of your youth? Or do you compare her to the most recent pretty young thing that has walked by? Do your eyes engage with those God has not joined with you as one flesh? Does your mind fantasize about forbidden pleasure? Do you, day after day, look at your own wife and find reasons for dissatisfaction?

Wives, have you grown disappointed with your husbands physically, emotionally, sexually, even spiritually? Have you found yourself attracted to being in the presence of another? His job or his life is so much more interesting. He has drive and charisma. He’s sensitive and funny, present and interested in you. He’s such a faithful man, such a good father. Such a good husband, even. But they don’t appreciate him! Many affairs seem to begin in a flash—but sometimes we have allowed a fire for another to smolder.

The pandemic of pornography is not just popular among the pagans, is it? Romance novels or sexually graphic entertainment allow us the false sense of security that we’re not really sinning because we’re not really doing anything. Jesus warns us that (Mt. 6:23) if our eyes are engrossed with evil things, our whole body will be corrupted. If the light within us is darkness, how great is the darkness!

And like David, we commit all kinds of sin under the cover of darkness. Sinning in ways that no one else can see or know. We have allowed anger and resentment to fester in our hearts. We have handed ourselves over to greed and jealousy. Do you struggle with a deep discontent that you try to distract with online shopping? We have given into temptations and then tried to dig ourselves out by more and greater sins.

It is a sham-full and shameful solace when we think to ourselves: it never devolved into what David did! Only because you didn’t have the political power and the military muscle to sweep your sins under the rug as David did!

Even if there was no one in the palace that would hold David accountable, the Lord would. Even if everyone in Israel thought David was a great king, the Lord knew the truth. Even if there is no one in your life that knows you what you’ve done, the Lord is aware. None of us can say with a clear conscience that we have not sinned.

And we know what that means we deserve. God’s wrath. Condemnation. We deserve God to send a holy righteous thunderbolt and strike us dead. And God certainly would be within his power and right to do so. He could have sent Joab back to David and ended his life right then and there. Instead he sent Nathan. A prophet. With a story that would cure David’s blindness to his own wickedness.

On the day his son with Bathsheba was born, most likely, (2 Sm. 12:1) the Lord sent Nathan to David. Nathan’s story struck a tender chord in David’s heart. (1 Sm. 17:34-35) As a boy, he was a shepherd for his father. He loved the sheep of his flock so much that even when he life was threatened he chased down bears and lions and rescued his sheep from their mouths. Hearing about someone stealing a little ewe lamb from his poor neighbor—an animal that had become like family—caused David to (2 Sm. 12:5) burn with anger against the man in the story.

As King, David was called to be the judge of Israel. This was his job. And he knew what the Law of Moses demanded: (Ex. 22:1) Whoever steals..a sheep and slaughters it must pay back…four sheep for the sheep. (Ex. 22:3) Anyone who steals must make restitution, but if they have nothing, they must be sold to pay for their theft. David was more demanding than even Moses. (2 Sm. 12:5-6) As surely as the Lord lives, the man who did this must die, because…he had no pity.

And he wasn’t making a snap judgment. He was right. The man who did this, had no pity. When he heard of the death of Uriah, David declared (2 Sm. 11:25) the sword devours one man as well as another.

At this point, the prophet of the Lord played his hand. (2 Sm. 12:7) You are the man who had no pity, David! You are the man who is rich and stole from your poor neighbor. (2 Sm. 12:8) The Lord gave you the kingdom, the palace, even your predecessor’s wives but (2 Sm. 12:10) you despised the Lord (2 Sm. 12:9) and did what is evil in his eyes.

Nathan continued. (2 Sm 12:11) There will be calamitous consequences. (2 Sm. 12:10) The sword, that you so casually said devours one like another, will never depart from your life. You will always be dealing with violence and unrest. And (2 Sm. 12:11) someone close to you, someone you consider a friend, will do to you what you did to Uriah. Only they won’t try to hide it. They will do what you have done (2 Sm. 12:12) in broad daylight and everyone in Israel will know about it.

It was devastating. David probably would have rather heard that he was going to die, right then and there. His hidden sin was out there in the open and the distressing, disgusting consequences would play out the rest of his life.

(2 Sm. 12:13) Then David said to Nathan: I have sinned against the Lord. None of the finger pointing Adam and Eve did in the Garden of Eden. None of the complaining of Cain. None of the excuse making of Saul. (Ps. 51:16) No offers to make up for it in some way. This is about the only thing that David did right in the whole ordeal. He confessed his sin openly and (Ps. 51:1) threw himself upon the Lord’s mercy. David (Ps. 51:3) knew his transgression. His sin was before him. David knew that he had (Ps. 51:4) done what is evil in God’s sight. He had shown utter contempt for the Lord. (Ps. 51:4) He knew that God was right in his verdict, justified when he judged David. (Ps. 51:1) Lord, blot out my transgressions according to your great compassion.

Then Nathan announced the good news. (2 Sm. 12:13) The Lord has taken away your sin.

The Lord made such an announcement because he had a plan to (Ps. 51:2) wash away all David’s iniquity—and yours and mine. God (Ps. 51:6) desired faithfulness from the get-go. None of us could measure up. So God sent someone who was better than David pretended to be. An anointed King (Lk. 10:27) who loved the Lord with all his heart, mind, soul, and strength and his neighbor as himself. An anointed King who had (Ps. 51:10) a pure heart and a steadfast spirit. An anointed king who would shed his blood to (Ps. 51:14) deliver us from the guilt of our sins. An anointed king who is (Ps. 51:14) God our Savior. Jesus is this King. Who surpasses David in every way. Who makes atonement for this sin, and countless others, so that we might dwell in God’s (Ps. 51:11) presence and revel in (Ps. 51:12) the joy of his salvation. This anointed King did not just not shed the innocent blood of his friend, he shed his own holy, precious blood for us—even while we were still his enemies. This sacrifice was for our sins. In the darkness of Good Friday, God (Ps. 103:12) removed our sins as far as east is from west. In the darkness of Good Friday, (Ps. 103:3) God covered over all our iniquities. Because of the sacrifice of Good Friday, (Heb. 8:12) God remembers our sins no more.

And this is what we run to when we repent. Not that we didn’t mess up as big as David. Not that we can point to others who’ve made bigger, more infamous mistakes. Not even that we’re really, really, really sorry. We run to the cross, where God has (Rm. 3:24) justified us freely by his grace, the grace that can only come through the redemption that Christ Jesus has earned. Even for the sins that haunt us. Even for the sins that leave us shaking our heads wondering what we were thinking. Or if we were at all. (Ps. 51:1) God has had mercy on us, according to his unfailing love. Amen.