Isaiah 62:6-65:26; Philippians 2:19-3:3; Psalm 73:1-28; Proverbs 24:13-14
“…How can people like us be saved? We are all infected and impure with sin. When we display our righteous deeds, they are nothing but filthy rags…. O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter. We all are formed by your hand…. Please don’t remember our sins forever.”
“Whatever happens, my dear brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord. I never get tired of telling you these things, and I do it to safeguard your faith.”
“But as for me, I almost lost my footing. My feet were slipping, and I was almost gone. For I envied the proud when I saw them prosper despite their wickedness…. Did I keep my heart pure for nothing? Did I keep myself innocent for no reason? I get nothing but trouble all day long…. Then I realized that my heart was bitter, and I was all torn up inside. I was so foolish and ignorant—I must have seemed like a senseless animal to you.”
“My child, eat honey, for it is good, and the honeycomb is sweet to the taste. In the same way, wisdom is sweet to your soul. If you find it, you will have a bright future, and your hopes will not be cut short.”
I envy people who do not feel the pangs of guilt. Don’t misunderstand. I am no more attuned to the depth of my affirmative sin than anyone else. I understand and accept forgiveness. The heavenly Father gave us the freedom to fail from the Cross, and I regularly take advantage of it. No, the guilt I feel comes mainly from my failures to realize my God-given potential, and to be the example I think He calls me to be to others.
See, I confess to being somewhat of a perfectionist, and a perfectionist can never be just a little wrong or off. I can also be overly intense and over committed. Inevitably, there are times when there is not enough of me to go around, so other people – and consequently, the Lord – get let down. When that is my fault, it can take quite a bit of time before I trust myself again, let alone feel that God can trust me.
Just such an occasion blindsided me yesterday morning at church. This year, I had volunteered to usher at Sunday services. The team, however, was obviously over staffed. Teaching the hour before service, I could never get to sanctuary in time to serve in any meaningful way. Our team was up again in May, but there was a second class during the same time needing a sub teacher. Now, Christian education is my personal ministry and spiritual gift. So I said yes, and pretty much forgot ushering in the enthusiasm of planning two classes. No usher called me after the first few weeks, either; apparently, I was not missed. I decided they, too, recognized I was not needed, so I just went on with both classes, forgetting all about my commitment to the usher team. Having finished the lesson series last week, I walked blithely into church totally forgetting the ushering thing… until I realized my team was serving one last Sunday. I was inches away from a clean get away when an old friend shouted to me across the narthex and then, in a very nice way, asked me why I had abandoned ushering. It wasn’t that there wasn’t a good explanation. It was that I had not told anyone. Really, it was that I got to feeling sorry for myself when they didn’t call, so I just let my absence ride. Not a particularly good example from someone who is supposed to know better…. But what really got to me was my desire to avoid the issue with my friend, rather than own the situation. For some odd reason, it was easier to be undependable and hide than it was to just say no up front.
I seriously doubt I’m the only Christian who has ever done this. Most every committee I’ve ever served on has had its share of “no shows” and flighty folks who could not be counted on. I just never thought others would feel that way about me. I felt guilty all day.
That was a long story to make a short point. Guilt kills. When we experience unresolved guilt, whether we acknowledge it or not, it separates us from our friends, our families and our Lord. I could have confronted the issue head on early on; admitted my first mistake; made a clean break; and had nothing to apologize for. But because I took the weasel’s way out, I set a worse example, and a friend’s confidence now needs to be restored. I feel more guilty than I ever would have about just telling the truth.
All of us get in over our heads sometimes. Sometimes, our good really is the enemy of our best. But if the Cross means anything, it means we now have the freedom to share our limitations in advance so we don’t have to feel guilty about later failures. God gives each of us just enough time to accomplish what He has planned for us. When we find ourselves needing to be two places at once, it usually means we have a conflict with God’s plan. It means we have made our own agendas our priority.
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