The forgiveness of God teaches you to fear God.

Seems like an odd connection — forgiveness and fear — but after you hear King David (from the Old Testament) talk about both of these things in one of his psalm lyrics, you begin to see why they are related.

“Lord, if you kept a record of our sins, who, O Lord, could ever survive? But you offer forgiveness, that we might learn to fear you.” (Psalm 130:3-4)
Why would the Lord’s forgiveness teach me to fear Him? Because I know, at all times, that without it I am toast! My life is hanging on God’s forgiveness and God’s forgiveness alone, and because my sins are so great, my very life rests solely on God’s decision to forgive me. Should He ever change His mind about this, I have nothing else to fall back on. I am left with the magnitude of my sin, a righteous and demanding God who can extract an ounce of selfishness from a ton of good deeds, leaving nowhere to hide.

When I realize the greatness of my sin, I have a healthy desperation for the forgiveness of God. I will not be prone to take advantage of that which is my only hope — a hope that rests on nothing but the sheer will of God to offer it.

Sometimes I think we get too comfy with the forgiveness of God. Like “feel-good Christians,” we take the forgiveness of God too lightly and fail to come to grips with the devastation of our sin.

“Lord, if you kept a record of our sins, who, O Lord, could ever survive?” (that’s the fear part). “But you offer forgiveness, that we might learn to fear you” (that’s the forgiveness part), but it’s a forgiveness that is always aware of who God is and what we deserve.

My multitude of sins + God’s mercy = a forgiveness that just doesn’t add up. And so I walk with a sense of undeserved pardon, partaking in this new math, and not wanting to add to what has already made this a severely lopsided equation. I want to please God now. I don’t want to be one to take this forgiveness lightly.