We draw near because Christ our Mediator has gone where we never could, and he has brought us with him.
The Israelite God was different from all the other gods, thus, the worship of Yahweh differed from that of all other gods.
David finally found the truth that it was not his seed of kingship but the promise made to Abraham that made him holy. From that, David refused to be moved and wrote this Psalm by the necessity of the Spirit as the assurance of faith. The law never made a man holy, not even one as robust as David; yet faith did this great thing without lifting a finger.

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In the tiny Bible-belt town where I grew up, tragedy brought people together.
Life is certainly unfair. But in Christ, at least in part, we rejoice at such a notion. Grace, that great descriptor of God’s devotion, is a word that only finds its purpose, only exists at all, because it exists as a response to guilt.
Writer’s Block, however, entertains no such fantasies. It goes straight for my ego’s jugular and pounds home the fact that I’m not good enough.
The force of our love is violent. It is love acted out as, “I will love you in a way that’s best for me, and you’ll like it, and celebrate it, and reward me for it.
Our meditation listens to the King of Kings when He says; it is finished.
Our complaints about God's grace always sound the same: "It was good to see him in church with his son this morning.
We too believe that we can be just like God, perhaps even by helping God to be a God in our image.
We expect that if it is God’s word, it must have fallen out of the sky on golden plates.
No matter how loving we are, we don’t get bonus points with the Almighty for imitating Jesus. We love each other because we recognize that “this is one for whom Jesus died.
Why confess sin? Is it so we can get rewarded by God? A little extra grace or material good for our troubles, maybe.
When we think God is doing something for us here or there or everywhere, we are simply fixing labels and putting value on what we imagine God is doing for us.
The fool says in his heart, “There is no God.” But the fool also says in his heart, “There are many gods.” And we, dear friends, are the fools.