THERE WAS NO use denying it; David had been caught. Nathan the prophet had been sent by God to confront the king with his double sin. Not only had David abused his authority by committing adultery and conceiving a child with Bathsheba, he had tried to cover up that sin with another: murder. Nathan declared the punishment God would bring upon the royal household — and all David could say was, “I have sinned against the LORD” (2 Sam 12:13, NIV).

What then? The heading of Psalm 51 asks us to read it as having been written by a repentant David after the confrontation with Nathan. The psalm thus begins with a heartfelt plea for God’s mercy:

Have mercy on me, O God,
    according to your unfailing love;
according to your great compassion
    blot out my transgressions.
Wash away all my iniquity
    and cleanse me from my sin. (Ps 51:1-2)

David is crushed by the unvarnished truth about his sinfulness and prays not only for God to cleanse him of sin, but to give him a pure heart:

Create in me a pure heart, O God,
    and renew a steadfast spirit within me. (vs. 10)

The psalm even embodies the spirit of what we read earlier from the prophet Micah. Honest, humble contrition is itself the sacrifice God wants:

You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;
    you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.
My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
    a broken and contrite heart
    you, God, will not despise. (vss. 16-17)

Can you hear in this psalm the themes we’ve already explored in the Beatitudes? There is poverty of spirit and mournful sorrow over sin. There is a hunger for God to make things right again, and a cry for mercy. And all of this is echoed in the prayer, “Create in me a pure heart.”

“BLESSED ARE THE pure in heart,” said Jesus, “for they will see God.” Let’s start with the promise. Have you ever wished you could see God?

I think here of the disciples in the Upper Room, distraught over the news that Jesus is leaving them to return to the Father. From their point of view, things are coming apart; their hopes and dreams are beginning to dissipate like smoke. “Lord, show us the Father,” Philip blurts out, “and that will be enough for us” (John 14:8). I imagine the other disciples nodding in agreement.

But Jesus replies:

Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, “Show us the Father”? Don’t you believe that I am in the Father, and that the Father is in me? (vss. 9-10)

Jesus, in other words, has been showing them the Father all along. But even at this late date, as Jesus neared his crucifixion, the disciples still haven’t developed the spiritual insight to see the truth about Jesus clearly.

On the one hand, we have an advantage over the disciples: we know that the crucified Jesus returned from the grave. On the other hand, however, we suffer the disadvantage of not having the living, breathing person of Jesus physically performing miracles before our eyes. As the apostle Paul said, “we live by faith, not by sight” (2 Cor 5:7).

Right. But honestly, wouldn’t a little “sight” now and then be welcome?

Perhaps. But here’s the problem. Not everybody who saw Jesus believed. He pronounced woes on entire towns that refused to repent despite the miracles he did in their midst. And the same Jesus who revealed the Father to the disciples also revealed him to the scribes, the Pharisees, the temple authorities, and all the functionaries of Rome that put him to death. They didn’t see the Father in Jesus. They saw a rogue rabbi, a lawbreaker, a religious and political subversive, a threat to the public order. God stood right in front of them, and they lacked the eyes to see.

Their hearts, Jesus might have said, were not pure.

What about us? If we say that we want to see God, is it because God isn’t there or because we lack the purity of heart to see?

PART OF THE problem for us is that we live in a world of endless distraction. Perhaps the most important, most ubiquitous symbol of this is the smartphone (and yes, I both own one and spend too much time on it). Research suggests that if our phones are visible and within reach, they will capture some of our attention, even when they’re silent.

Why? Because that’s what they’re supposed to do. Smartphones are not simply tools to make our lives easier, though they certainly do that. They are devices for delivering content that is specifically designed to grab and hold our attention, usually to manipulate our desires. It might be the desire for stimulation or entertainment, the desire to purchase and own something, or even just the desire to prove ourselves by getting a high score.

I’m not saying that this is intrinsically bad. But we underestimate just how precious and limited a resource our attention is. We don’t really “multitask,” though we believe we can. What we’re doing neurologically is rapidly switching our attention back and forth, with the result that something isn’t getting the attention it deserves or needs. Imagine family members sitting around a dinner table, each staring at his or her own device, and you get the picture.

Granted, sometimes our attention is divided because there are multiple demands on our time and energy. But it’s also because our desires are multiple and often conflicting. David wanted God, but also lusted for Bathsheba. The Pharisees wanted the Messiah to come, but also clung to their religious status and authority. The disciples wanted the kingdom, but wanted it their way.

And what do we want? We want a relationship with God. We want to know that he is active in our lives. We want to see God. But we also want many, many other things that have nothing to do with God. And we live in a technological age that constantly distracts us with possible desires, fracturing our attention, dividing our hearts.

What would it take to carve out some sacred time and space to turn all of our attention to God? What would it mean to be more wholehearted in our pursuit of God’s kingdom? Who knows — we might actually see the hand of God more clearly and consistently. And that would be a blessing indeed.