A stout beating with the conviction stick

"For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death." --2 Corinthians 7:10

My husband came home yesterday to find me reading.

"How was your day?" he asked.
"Ok," I answered quietly.
"You sleepy?"
"No," I said.
"You sick?" he said, looking concerned.
"No, I feel fine..."
"Well what's wrong then?" he asked.
"I'm a sinner..." I said quietly, dropping my eyes.

I must have looked kinda cute and pitiful, because Stephan laughed in that way you do when you see a baby crying and just can't take it seriously. He sat down adn hugged me, and told me that I had plenty of company in being a sinner.

"A thousand other sinners wouldn't make me less sinful," I informed him.
"Well, no," he said, "but God knows hot to handle sinners. Are you remembering the gospel?"

He told me the story again. Sinful men, deserving punishment from a holy God, were brought near to him by him substituting his son - Jesus - to recieve the punishment they deserved. If I had put my faith in Christ's death on my behalf, "Which you have," he said, then God looks and me and see's Christ's righteousness and not my sinfulness.

I nodded. He was right, of course, but there was something sweet and unique about the way I was feeling this time.

We'd been reading through a book in my caregroup about genuine repentence. One of the ingredients to genuine repentence was true sorrow over our sin. It's one thing to know we've broken a rule, but when we really meditate on the fact that we've acted outside the boundaries laid by a holy god - who has already done so much to save us - and have grieved him by our actions, then we become truly sorrowful. Those sins put Jesus on the cross. Those actions created my need for a savior, and ultimately made it neccesary for Jesus to die the death I should have.

Grieving over the fact that we hurt God is a neccesary ingredient to being truly repentant for our sin. But as we read through this section, I realized that I very rarely felt grieved over my sin - sure I felt bad that I broke a rule or tarnished my track record, but I didn't think in context of wronging and hurting the heart of the perfect God that had sacrificed his beloved son to reconcile me, a sinner, to himself.

Well, we started reading this book last Tuesday. Sunday I got the word from God that he wanted me to respond in obedience. I knew that there would be no real and lasting change in my life until I was truly sorrowful over my sin - if I lacked that, I would simply fall back into old patterns of sin. I mean, no one ever changes an action they don't really and truly feel bad for.

I prayed a simple prayer that God would increase my grief over my sin. I wasn't expecting a stout beating with the conviction stick - which is what I felt like I got.

I woke up the next morning and felt like I was going to collaps in a puddle of tears all day. I saw my sin like I'd never seen it before. When I saw the puddle of water on the floor in front of the ice machine I immediately thought "What idiot dropped ice and didn't kick it under the machine?" That was a judgemental attitude - had to stop and repent for that. When my supervisor got a phone call from a long lost friend and couldn't stop talking about it I grew angry and frustrated with her. Again, had to walk through repentance. Oh, and when the people in the issuing office were offended and put off when I brought something to them late by no fault of my own I left in a huff thinking "Do they think things never come across my desk unexpectedly or late? I don't act that way when it does..." That was self-righteousness. That one almost put me on the floor. I hadn't realized just how much I sinned. It was almost imcapacitating.

How many of you opperate like this: if there are no adverse consequences for your sin, or no one calls you out on your sin, you don't even think about it really being sin. It's just a natural reaction to life. It's justified. It's understandable. You dont' grieve it. Sure, you may ask God to forgive you - maybe - but your heart doesn't feel it would break over it.

This is a discription of my relationship with repentance. I rarely ask forgiveness from God. I don't grieve my sin enough to prompt me to go back to the one I've ultimately offended - God. Sin by it's nature is an offense against God.

When I told my husband all this, he cautioned me against condemnation - which is letting the magnitude of your sin overwhelm you to the point where you forget that Christ has already paid for it - all of it. Basically you're saying with your actions that his death wasn't adequate and you still have reason to wallow in your sin. True belief in the gospel dispells condemnation because those who are saved are no longer condemned.

I was like this all day. It may sound like I wasn't in a hurry to get out of this funk. Well, like I said, there was something sweet and unique about this time. Usually, I do fall into condemnation. I completely forget the cross and wallow in the magnitude of my sin. Falling into that condemnation usually preceeds a whole host of other sins - like self-pity and anger and dispair. But I wasn't like that this time. This time I was keenly aware that I was washed clean by Christ's blood - and was so genuinely grieved over my sin in general that I was even desirous of avoiding the sins that usually went with condemnation. Those sins were just as bad as those of lisence. Where I was that day was simply grieved over my sin as a whole. Pouty sins didn't become permissible because I was feeling guilty over other sins. All sins were things that hurt God - and so were all things to be avoided. I just wanted to savor the acute awareness of that fact. I needed it. Without the grief, there's no genuine repentance and no lasting change.

So how about today? I'm feeling better. I'm trying to meditate on the gospel and remember that though my sin is horrid, it is attoned for. This is a very exciting thing! Only the perfect love of God could prompt him to pay such a price to ransom a sinner like me from death - and because of Jesus, nothing can separate me from that love. This should produce joy. And as my husband faithfully pointed out last night, "The Christian life is not marked by grief, but by joy."

The joy is building in my heart. But I want to give proper time to the grief too. The more genuine my grief, the more genuine my joy will be too.