But with thee there is plenteous forgiveness.
Sometimes it is just hard to believe.
We watched this movie about Margaret Thatcher last night, and Meryl Streep did a very good job at going crazy and regretting things and ending the Cold War. I was just about crying the whole time because movies about old people regretting things really send me over the edge.
I stayed up too late, thinking about what I would regret when I got older. How am I blind today? I thought about how I have been rude or weird to everyone I know. Blush after blush. Countless blushes. And I'll blush again tomorrow.
Some translations of this Psalm say "O Lord, who could survive?" I'm not sure whether or not I like that better than "stand." "Survive" sounds so desperate, but "stand" is vividly physical. Like I'm literally falling down with shame about things that I did when I was thirteen.
I know the first part of that Psalm inside and out. As for the second, it seems utterly unthinkable that the Lord doesn't take note of my sins, which boisterously parade around my head at night. I mean, they are so loud and so ugly. It's like being asked to believe that someone doesn't see a huge deformity on my face.
Lord I believe, help thou my unbelief.