Many years ago, when I was fairly new to ministry, I experienced an unprecedented delight in my relationship with God. My life wasn’t sinless or pain free; I was simply experiencing the joy of staying connected with God. I spent regular time with Him, talked with Him throughout the day, and confessed sin quickly when I became aware of it. I didn’t have any illusions that I had “arrived” spiritually or had achieved maturity; I had just found a satisfying stride in walking with God.

One morning, when I arrived at our ministry center, I noticed some friends (a married couple) that appeared to be arguing in the parking lot and having a difficult time of it. I silently prayed for them and entered the building. Later, when I saw the husband (I’ll call him Jason), I told him that I had prayed for him and his wife that morning. Jason looked intently at me and said, “Wait, did you pray for us before you saw us in the parking lot?” I immediately felt rattled. Why was he asking that question? If I admitted that I had prayed for them after I saw them, I might come across as if I had been staring at them and eavesdropping. Of course, the other option would be to lie. In that split second of confusion, I opted for the latter, and I lied that I had prayed for them before I had seen them that morning. He of course (incorrectly) thought that I must be very in tune with God, because I had prayed for them without having seen that they were struggling. He was encouraged that God saw them, which is why he had asked the question in the first place.

As I walked away, I was overcome by a crushing sense of guilt. I had just lied to my friend to make myself look good! I quickly confessed to God what I had done … but the guilt remained. Certainly I couldn’t admit to Jason that I had lied; I was utterly mortified. So I said nothing… and that joy of staying connected with God vanished. Oh, I still spent time with Him and I know there were ways that He used me during that time … but in the back of my mind there was this nagging feeling that things just weren’t right.

While the Bible refers to guilt as the status of being guilty, in our contemporary language we often use guilt to refer to the unpleasant feelings we experience when we have done something wrong. If I say something hurtful or lie on an exam (or to my friend) or do one of any number of things that I shouldn’t do, I often feel “guilty.” It’s an unsettledness, a feeling that something is not right within myself, or between me and another person. It nags at me. In my situation with Jason, I felt guilty because I was guilty.

The Bible actually speaks to these feelings, even if it doesn’t use the words “feeling guilty” for them. In Psalm 32, David rejoices over forgiveness for his sin. As he recalls his experience, he says,

When I kept silent about my sin, my body wasted away
Through my groaning all day long.
For day and night Your hand was heavy upon me;
My vitality was drained away as with the fever heat of summer. Selah.
– Psalm 32:3-4

I can attest to the truth of these words! I experienced similar feelings daily after my conversation with Jason, and that was a relatively small drop in the ocean of my sins. Sometimes feeling guilty presents as a vague sense of discomfort, other times as a crushing sense of remorse. What is the solution? David continues,

I acknowledged my sin to You,
And my iniquity I did not hide;
I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the Lord”;
And You forgave the guilt [i.e. the state of my being guilty] of my sin. Selah.
– Psalm 32:5

It then follows that forgiveness is the gift, right? Where does guilt fit in? Forgiveness certainly is a gift, a beautiful gift given by a gracious Heavenly Father through His Son Jesus. But how is guilt a gift? While the feeling of guilt is unpleasant, it isn’t the source of our problem; the actual state of our guilt is the real problem. I experience something similar when I touch a hot stove. The pain I feel isn’t the problem; it is simply a warning sign to real danger. Without pain, my hand could be irreparably damaged by its proximity to the real problem, the dangerously hot stove. I don’t keep my hand on the stove and inject myself with anesthesia to remove the pain; I flee the damaging heat. Similarly, my feelings of guilt provide a warning sign. “Deal with the problem or your life will be damaged!” When I respond appropriately to the guilt by seeking forgiveness, I deal with the problem at its source.

My feelings of guilt offer me an invitation. Something is wrong, but there is a way it can be made right. When I have sinned against God and/or another person, I can humble myself, admit my fault, and ask for forgiveness. While I can’t be guaranteed that the other person will accept my apology or extend forgiveness, I can be assured that I am following the command of Romans 12:18: “If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men.” My experience of guilt urges me on to deal with the problem at hand.

Whatever happened with Jason? I am embarrassed to say that I avoided telling him the truth for a whole year! My pride was just too great. But when I finally couldn’t bear hiding any longer, I pulled Jason aside and explained what I had done. He was gracious and forgiving (although I’m sure he didn’t understand why I had waited so long to say something) and within minutes the conversation was over. Immediately, the “fever heat” (Psalm 32:4) was gone and my fellowship with God was renewed. I wasted a lot of time in my pride, and my feelings of guilt certainly didn’t feel like a gift at the time. But I saw how kind God was to bring me to a point where I could see humility as a better option than the alternative. The gift of guilt pushed me towards the gifts of forgiveness and reconciliation with both Jason and my heavenly Father.