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Cross References

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Psalm 32:1

The Message

Count yourself lucky, how happy you must be— you get a fresh start, your slate’s wiped clean.

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27 Cross References  

Then David confessed to Nathan, “I’ve sinned against God.” Nathan pronounced, “Yes, but that’s not the last word. God forgives your sin. You won’t die for it. But because of your blasphemous behavior, the son born to you will die.”

He forgives your sins—every one. He heals your diseases—every one. He redeems you from hell—saves your life! He crowns you with love and mercy—a paradise crown. He wraps you in goodness—beauty eternal. He renews your youth—you’re always young in his presence.

All you who fear God, how blessed you are! how happily you walk on his smooth straight road! You worked hard and deserve all you’ve got coming. Enjoy the blessing! Soak in the goodness!

Blessed are you who give yourselves over to God, turn your backs on the world’s “sure thing,” ignore what the world worships; The world’s a huge stockpile of God-wonders and God-thoughts. Nothing and no one compares to you! I start talking about you, telling what I know, and quickly run out of words. Neither numbers nor words account for you.

A white-tailed deer drinks from the creek; I want to drink God, deep drafts of God. I’m thirsty for God-alive. I wonder, “Will I ever make it— arrive and drink in God’s presence?” I’m on a diet of tears— tears for breakfast, tears for supper. All day long people knock at my door, Pestering, “Where is this God of yours?”

My heart bursts its banks, spilling beauty and goodness. I pour it out in a poem to the king, shaping the river into words: * * *

Why do you brag of evil, “Big Man”? God’s mercy carries the day. You scheme catastrophe; your tongue cuts razor-sharp, artisan in lies. You love evil more than good, you call black white. You love malicious gossip, you foul-mouth.

Bilious and bloated, they gas, “God is gone.” It’s poison gas— they foul themselves, they poison Rivers and skies; thistles are their cash crop. God sticks his head out of heaven. He looks around. He’s looking for someone not stupid— one man, even, God-expectant, just one God-ready woman.

Open your ears, God, to my prayer; don’t pretend you don’t hear me knocking. Come close and whisper your answer. I really need you. I shudder at the mean voice, quail before the evil eye, As they pile on the guilt, stockpile angry slander.

“Come. Sit down. Let’s argue this out.” This is God’s Message: “If your sins are blood-red, they’ll be snow-white. If they’re red like crimson, they’ll be like wool. If you’ll willingly obey, you’ll feast like kings. But if you’re willful and stubborn, you’ll die like dogs.” That’s right. God says so.

“But I, yes I, am the one who takes care of your sins—that’s what I do. I don’t keep a list of your sins.

Jesus came back, “God bless you, Simon, son of Jonah! You didn’t get that answer out of books or from teachers. My Father in heaven, God himself, let you in on this secret of who I really am. And now I’m going to tell you who you are, really are. You are Peter, a rock. This is the rock on which I will put together my church, a church so expansive with energy that not even the gates of hell will be able to keep it out.

Jesus commented, “Even more blessed are those who hear God’s Word and guard it with their lives!”

“How blessed are those who wash their robes! The Tree of Life is theirs for good, and they’ll walk through the gates to the City. But outside for good are the filthy curs: sorcerers, fornicators, murderers, idolaters—all who love and live lies.




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