When it comes to confessing our sins, many Christians fall into one of two errors — both of which steal joy, disrupt peace, and undermine assurance.

On one side are those we might call non-confessors, Christians who rarely confess specific sins to God. Maybe the reason is theological: “Christ has already covered all my sins, so why keep confessing them?” Or maybe, having a thin grasp of grace, they cannot endure the exposure and shame confession brings. Or maybe they simply don’t take the time to pause, examine themselves, and bring their sins before God. Either way, they seldom say anything like, “Father, I have lusted” — or gossiped, envied, overeaten, fumed — “and I am sorry. Will you forgive me?”

On the other side (a side I know well) are those we might call repeat confessors, Christians who bring the same moment again and again before God, repeatedly asking for forgiveness. They sin, they feel conviction, they confess — yet they still feel unforgiven. So, they confess again a little later, and then again, perhaps three or four (or more) times, just to be safe and sure. As often as not, however, their repeated confessions do little to blunt the sharp blade of conviction. Their guilt is a demon only time can cast out.

To both kinds of Christians, Psalm 32 speaks a needed and blessed word. “Confess,” it says to the first group, “and receive again the gift of God’s pardon.” “Confess once,” it says to the second group, “and listen for the shouts of God’s mercy.”

Following the psalm, we might describe healthy confession in four parts: Heed God’s hand. Name your sins. Receive God’s forgiveness. Be glad in him.

1. Heed God’s Hand

Day and night your hand was heavy upon me. (Psalm 32:4)

Psalm 32 sings of sins forgiven and guilt forgotten, of a King who reigns in grace and welcomes sinners with favor. But early in the psalm, David also laments the sorrows of those who, for whatever reason, refuse to walk through the only door that leads to such joys: confession. Looking back to his own season of unconfessed sin, David writes, “I kept silent” (Psalm 32:3). And what a miserable silence it was.

David doesn’t share his specific sin with us, nor does he say how long his silence lasted. But he does tell us that his unconfessed sin began sabotaging both soul and body, turning his bones brittle and sapping his strength, dogging him by day and lying down with him at night (Psalm 32:3–4). The Lord’s hand lay heavy upon him.

You likely know something of the feeling. A shameful comment escapes your mouth, maybe, or a twisted thought tempts you into dark places, or a session of scrolling sends you spiraling into jealousy or self-pity. For an hour, a few minutes, even a moment, you turn away from your God. Then guilt rises — but you immediately smother the feeling. No, you say to yourself, that wasn’t sin. Or maybe Yes, it was sin, but let’s just move on. But you can’t move on. Time passes. Conscience presses. Attention fails. Sleep flees. “Your hand was heavy upon me” (Psalm 32:4).

And then you remember: this hand, this heaviness, is mercy. Your offended God has not left you alone, has not handed you over and allowed sin to sear your conscience. He disturbs you because he loves you. He disrupts your peace to remind you of your disrupted communion with him — and to invite you back. He calls you to confess.

“Confession is God’s own gift for restoring communion with God.”

Some, to be sure, suffer from an overactive conscience that smites them when God does not. For such Christians, distinguishing between God’s hand and their own hand (or Satan’s hand, for that matter) takes wisdom and counsel from others. But many of us, especially those who confess sin less often, can learn from David to heed God’s hand, however lightly or heavily it rests upon us. And we can let that hand lead us to what David does next.

2. Name Your Sins

I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord.” (Psalm 32:5)

David may have remained silent in his sin for far too long, but once he opens his mouth, he does not hold back. In a single verse, David uses three groups of three to press upon us the honesty and earnestness of his confession.

Note, first, the threefold repetition of my: “my sin . . . my iniquity . . . my transgressions.” Whatever the extenuating circumstances, and whoever else may have been guilty as well, David knows that his sins are his, and so he owns them without excuse. In an echo of Nathan’s rebuke, he says before God, “I am the man” (2 Samuel 12:7).

Second, consider the three words he attaches to his deeply personal guilt: sin, iniquity, and transgressions. David would not (as we so often do) call sexual immorality “stumbling,” or hatred “irritation,” or lies “mistakes.” He takes biblical words upon his lips and names his guilt as God does. Many have described confession as agreeing with God about our sin — and so David does here. Each word is blunt, humbling, unvarnished, and true.

Third, observe the three ways David describes his speech toward God: “I acknowledged . . . I did not cover . . . I will confess.” He does not mumble his “I’m sorry”; he does not address God distractedly. Instead, he fully, freely, and thoughtfully exposes his heart before God.

A confession like David’s might be short or long; it might take many words or few. The specifics will depend, in part, on the severity of our sin and the length of our silence. But whether short or long, the key is to look our sin full in the face and confess its ugliness outright. David deals seriously with his sin here. And he discovers, as Charles Spurgeon once said, “When we deal seriously with our sin, God will deal gently with us.”

3. Receive God’s Forgiveness

You forgave the iniquity of my sin. (Psalm 32:5)

David has now confessed. He has ended his stubborn silence, bowed his weary head, and named his sins before God. And then, into the quiet of his confession comes a response as stunning as it is simple: “You forgave.” God forgave — just like that? Just like that the heavy hand was lifted? Yes, just like that. David may have waited to confess; God did not wait to forgive.

We know from David’s other psalms (like Psalm 51) that some time may pass before we feel fully forgiven. We also know from David’s life that God’s forgiveness does not always remove deeply painful consequences (as with Bathsheba and Uriah). But in this psalm, David would have us remember and embrace the promise almost too wonderful to be true: God is ready to forgive as quickly as we confess. He needs no long penance; he requires no probation. Our confession and his pardon belong in the very same verse (Psalm 32:5).

The brief end of verse 5 — “you forgave the iniquity of my sin” — pithily stresses the point. But for those prone to linger in guilt even after earnest, open confession, David captures God’s forgiveness from several other angles as well. Indeed, as varied as Scripture is in its vocabulary of human evil (sin, iniquity, transgressions, and more), we find just as many descriptions of divine mercy.

“David may have waited to confess; God did not wait to forgive.”

If we feel burdened, heavy laden with guilt, he forgives (a word that means “to carry away”). If our sin seems to stand boldly before us, he covers it (Psalm 32:1). If we cannot forget our former failures, he pledges not to count them as we do (Psalm 32:2). When we feel exposed, he is our hiding place; when endangered, he preserves us; when besieged with accusations, he surrounds us with shouts of deliverance (Psalm 32:7).

We have no guilt for which God has not a corresponding grace. For in Jesus Christ (the Messiah David hoped in but didn’t yet know by name), God has forever out-mercied our sin.

4. Be Glad in Him

Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, O righteous, and shout for joy, all you upright in heart! (Psalm 32:11)

David, freshly forgiven, ends his psalm with a shout of joy. And anyone who has felt deep guilt wiped clean can understand why: the forgiveness of sin brings a greater freedom than any prisoner has felt upon release, even if confined for life. Yet consider David’s final line closely, and you will see that his highest joy comes from something even greater than forgiveness.

A forgiven husband rejoices not simply in the absence of guilt but in the restored presence of his wife. A forgiven friend gives thanks not only for those words, “I forgive you,” but for the ensuing days of lost friendship found. And a forgiven Christian sings not merely of a clean conscience but of a reconciled God. We are “glad,” David says — in forgiveness, yes, but far more deeply “in the Lord” (Psalm 32:11).

Confession, in other words, is God’s own gift for restoring communion with God. Confession is a doorway out of misery, the prodigal’s path home, a river that looks black as death but lifts us onto brighter shores.

If we believe as much, then we will quickly heed the hand of God that bends us to our knees. We will name our sins, starkly and thoughtfully and without excuse. We will receive God’s forgiveness, believing him to be as good as he says and as kind as he promises. And we will be glad in him, the God who condemned our sin at the cross and now delights to cast it from us as far as east from west.