When David chose words to describe God in this psalm, the phrase that stands out is "ready to forgive." Not grudging forgiveness, not forgiveness that must be earned through sufficient suffering — but a God who is simply ready, already inclined toward mercy before we even open our mouths. The Hebrew word behind this, sallach, is used exclusively with God as its subject in the entire Old Testament. No human being is ever said to sallach. It belongs to a different order of grace entirely.

There is a particular kind of shame that comes with returning to God over the same failure. We imagine God tallying the offenses, patience wearing thin. We hesitate at the door of prayer, wondering whether we have used up our welcome. In the season of Lent, when we are called to honest examination of conscience, that shame can feel especially acute.

But Psalm 86:5 speaks directly into that hesitation. God is not merely willing to forgive — he is plenteous in mercy, abundant toward all who call upon him. The word "plenteous" pushes back against our anxiety about exhausting divine patience. There is no running low here. His mercy is not rationed.

This is the invitation Lent holds out. Not a season of dread, but a season of return — to a God whose very nature is to forgive, who waits with open-handed generosity for every voice that calls. The question is never whether he has enough mercy. The only question is whether we will call.