Look carefully at this powerful picture: our sins are like clouds. Just as clouds come in all shapes and shades, so do our transgressions. As clouds block the sun and darken the earth below, so our sins hide from us the light of Jehovah's face and leave us sitting in the shadow of death.

These sins are earth-born things. They rise up from the miry places of our nature. And when they gather thick enough, they threaten us with storm and tempest. But here's the tragic difference: unlike clouds, our sins yield no genial showers. Instead, they threaten to deluge us with a fiery flood of destruction. O you black clouds of sin! How can our souls know fair weather while you remain?

But now, let your joyful eye dwell on this stunning act of divine mercy: God blots them out. God himself appears on the scene. And in divine benignity, instead of manifesting his anger, he reveals his grace! He doesn't just blow the clouds away for a moment. No! He blots them out from existence once and forever. Listen to this: against the justified man, no sin remains. Not one. The great transaction of the cross has eternally removed his transgressions from him. On Calvary's summit, the great deed was done—the sin of all the chosen was forever put away, completely and effectually performed.

So now, obey his gracious command: "Return unto me." Why should pardoned sinners live at a distance from their God? If we have been forgiven all our sins—all of them!—then let no legal fear withhold us from the boldest access to our Lord. Yes, let backslidings be bemoaned. But let us not persevere in them! To the greatest possible nearness of communion with the Lord, let us, in the power of the Holy Spirit, strive mightily to return.

O Lord, this night restore us!