Daniel prays with clear eyes: God’s people have sinned, and God would be right to judge. Yet Daniel also anchors his hope in something sturdier than human performance—God’s own character. Even in the shadow of rebellion, he remembers that the Lord is the kind of God who welcomes the repentant with compassion and offers real forgiveness.

When Rebellion Meets Compassion

Daniel says, “To the Lord our God belong compassion and forgiveness, even though we have rebelled against Him.” (Daniel 9:9) Notice what “belongs” to God—compassion and forgiveness aren’t mood swings or rare exceptions; they are His rightful possession. Daniel doesn’t minimize sin; he names it. But he refuses to let sin have the final word about who God is.

This is the God who introduced Himself to Moses: “The LORD, the LORD God, is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in loving devotion and truth.” (Exodus 34:6) If you’re tempted to hide because you’re ashamed, Daniel invites you to do the opposite: bring the truth into the light, because the One you’re coming to is compassionate.

Forgiveness That Cleanses, Not Just Cancels

God’s forgiveness is not a vague spiritual shrug—it’s a cleansing work. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9) That means He doesn’t merely erase the record; He washes the stain. Confession isn’t paying God back—it’s agreeing with Him so you can be restored.

And the cross is where this mercy becomes undeniable: “But God proves His love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8) So when old guilt tries to keep you at arm’s length, answer it with Scripture: “As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.” (Psalm 103:12)

Come Close—His Throne Is Grace

Mercy is not just a doctrine to admire; it’s an invitation to approach. “Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:16) Confidence doesn’t come from pretending you’re fine; it comes from knowing who sits on the throne and what Christ has done to bring you near.

And when you receive mercy, you’re meant to pass it on. “For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.” (Matthew 6:14) Today, bring your sin honestly to God—and then ask Him who needs patience, a gentle word, or forgiveness from you. The mercy that belongs to Him is meant to shape the people who belong to Him.

Lord, thank You that compassion and forgiveness belong to You. Help me confess quickly, receive Your cleansing, and extend Your mercy to others today. Amen.

It is more than probable that in the whole history of the United States there was never at any one time so much religious activity as there is today. And it is also very likely that there was never less true spirituality.

. . .

Now, experience has prepared us for the rebuttal we will surely hear from tender-minded friends: Who are we to judge? We must leave these professed Christians with the Lord and look to our own doorstep. And furthermore, we should be glad for any little bit of good that is being done and not spoil it by faultfinding.

All that sounds good, but it is an expression of a religious laissez faire which would stand carelessly by and permit the whole church of Christ to degenerate morally and spiritually without daring to raise a hand to help or a voice to warn. So did not the prophets. So did not Christ, or His apostles, or the Reformers; and so will not any man do who has seen heaven opened and beheld visions of God. Elijah could have kept his mouth shut and saved himself a lot of trouble. John the Baptist could have kept silent and saved his head; and every martyr might have pleaded laissez faire and died comfortably in his bed at a ripe old age. But in doing so, they would all have disobeyed God and laid themselves open to a severe judgment in the day of Christ.

Be astonished, O ye heavens, at this! and be ye very desolate, saith the Lord; for My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken Me, the Fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water. - Jeremiah 2:12-13

It does seem inexplicable that if a man has once got a glimpse of the beauty, preciousness, and sweetness of Christ, His love and His power, his eyes should ever turn away or his heart ever become unfaithful. And yet it is the history of the Church as a whole, and of the individual members of it. As to the Church as a whole, how early it needed to be said, "Ye have left your first love"! and how constantly it has had to be repeated ever since! The apostles were not cold in their graves when grievous wolves began to enter in and spoil the flock. The law seems to work almost inevitably that close on the heels of every period of earnestness and quickened life there shall follow a period of reaction and torpor. However high the arrow is shot, the impulse that sped it on its way heavenwards soon seems to die, and gravitation begins, and down it comes again.

Look at Germany after the Reformation. Look at the England of the eighteenth century after the outburst of Puritanism. Look at the deadness that fell upon the first periods of this century after the strong new life of Whitefield and the Wesleys. Look all over the history of the Church, and you find the same thing. Then ask the question: Is there any more convincing proof of a living Christ than the fact that the Church has not been dead and buried long ago? And is there any better sign that Christianity is not of man than the fact that it has always been so hard for men to keep themselves for any length of time upon its level?

I am sure there is not a man or a woman reading this that has not had moments of illumination, when the conscience was quickened, and things that they thought they believed all their days flared out upon them with altogether strange and startling force and reality. And what has become of the moments, what has become of the impressions that were made upon us then? Where have they all disappeared to? and what is left behind when the heavens have closed again? Use and wont has gathered about us once more; the old opium soporifics that have lulled us to sleep so often have been quaffed again; and after the momentary illumination and expansion, we have fallen back into the miserable old ruts of half belief and whole indifference, and yet call ourselves Christians. I was reading in a book of African travel the other day that the great mountain-peak of Kilimanjaro will lie for weeks and weeks hidden behind the mists, except now and then in the morning, when, like an apparition, its wedge forces itself through the rolling vapour, and for half-an-hour it gleams there, the lord of the landscape; and then it is blotted out. How many of our lives in their morning hours had a vision, when the rolling lies, unsubstantial but opaque, which veiled the realities have been swept away, and for an instant you saw what is always there, whether you see it or not, the reality of God in Christ, His love and His work for you?