What truth matters most when you hit bottom? What reality informs your response when life unravels? Trace the breadcrumbs and you’ll find something powerful.

I called my father from the county jail when I was twenty-one. I was drunk. It was three in the morning. I’d just been issued a citation for driving while intoxicated. Devastated is not even in the ballpark of descriptive emotions. It was my rock bottom. 

The only words I’ve read that come close to capturing my thoughts and emotions that night are in the opening line of Psalm 130: “Out of the depths I cry…”  

I wanted to die. But I didn’t. In fact, what happened to me on that night led to real spiritual breakthrough. I called my father for two reasons. I knew he’d come to get me. And I had no one else to call. 

It’s funny how our memories work. I don’t remember much about our discussion. What stands out to me is that the phone only rang once. Back then we didn’t sleep with our cell phones on the night table. Our telephone hung on the wall in the den.  

My dad didn’t assault me with questions to deepen my shame. He said he was on the way and that he loved me. We always ended our phone calls that way: “Love you.” But hearing him say it—and mean it—was all I needed. I was forgiven. 

No questions. No lectures. No scolding. It wasn’t necessary. I needed a hug. Walker Percy said “We love those who know the worst of us and don’t turn their faces away.”     

The author of Psalm 130—whoever he is—understood that. A few verses into his story, he uncovers one of the most profound and bedrock truths of Christianity: “If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared.” For a guilty sufferer, these words are life. 

Understanding the concept of forgiveness presents little difficulty. But people often stay in the depths, sinking in guilt. Understanding that God forgives is easy. Believing he wants to is the miracle. We are much better at self-condemnation than accepting God’s liberation. We naturally drift toward “God keeps a record of our iniquities,” but who can live under that?

In that passage, the psalmist uses a Hebrew word for sin that’s painful. It literally means “twisted” or “crooked.” The idea is that we’re bent out of shape, broken. If that’s God’s primary concern, keeping track of all the bent and crooked parts of our lives, we’re doomed. But it’s not His primary concern. Thank GOD it’s not. 

I don’t think we can do any better than Eugene Peterson’s Message translation of verse 4. “As it turns out, forgiveness is your habit, and that’s why you’re worshiped.” Forgiveness is God’s habit. That’s His first response to our cry for help. The phone only rings once. He’s on the way. He was never far away to begin with. 

As a good friend recently reminded me, when we come face-to-face with our crooked life and turn around, we don’t find an uphill climb to get back. God is right there with us. 

Forgiveness is His habit. That’s why we turned around to begin with. That’s why we made the call. We won’t rush to reconnect to a God who holds an account ledger. That’s every other religion in the world. And it doesn’t inspire worship or cultivate repentance. That doesn’t work.

Every year, I drive our family to Arkansas. We travel through the heart of the South in the buckle of the Bible Belt. Around the Georgia state line, church-sponsored billboards appear nearly every half mile or so. Millions of drivers read those messages, which I can only describe as snarky renditions of the ten commandments.

“Real Christians obey Jesus’ teachings.” “Lust drags you down to hell.” “Go to church or the devil will get you,” and one more, “That ‘Love thy neighbor’ thing, I meant that. -God.” I’m leaving out the ones about abortion, homosexuality, and reminders about judgment day.

If you’re confused—or provoked—by my concern for biblical truth without context being featured along one of the most traveled highways in America, this article won’t convince you otherwise. Maybe one day you’ll understand my sadness over the missed opportunity and mostly wasted money on those signs. For now, just try to engage an unbeliever in genuine gospel conversation whose sole exposure to Christianity has been I-75 billboards. It’s enlightening.    

If we could slap the first 4 verses of Psalm 130 on a billboard, I'd be thrilled. Or just verse 3. "With me, there is forgiveness…It’s my habit. -God.” And maybe “p.s. You won't find that with any other religion.” I could have used that billboard quite a few times on my drive to Arkansas, especially with 6 kids in tow for a 16 hour trip.

We love those who know the worst of us and don’t turn their faces away. When you hit rock bottom, what you believe about God matters. The wicked servant in Jesus’ parable buried his talent because he believed his master to be a hard man. His response? Don’t take any risks. Protect your assets. Play it safe. You don’t want to cross this master. 

But if the habit of your master is forgiveness…if he is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin…” you may just make a showing and get to work. You may be inclined to fear God, worship Jesus and take that message to a twisted, crooked world in need. A world in the depths that needs to make a call.

Only one person—a truly innocent sufferer—cried out to God from the depths and wasn’t answered. Only one person experienced what it meant to call His Father and be turned away. Only one person faced God holding our account ledger that could only lead to one place—a cross of execution. For those who believe the gospel, that record of debt was set aside and placed on Christ. But for those who reject the gospel and remain in unbelief, that ledger will lead to another place—the depths, where the unforgiven will sink in unimaginable despair.