Go Away Guilt, You're No Fun

Taking Guilt to the Cross, The Holy Spirit's Ministry

Yesterday I drove around town with nagging guilt. It was the sin of propping up myself; boasting about and protecting my own name, something I just exhorted the congregation about two days ago. Preachers know the connection from the dots of their own lives to the doctrine of which they preach. The connection sets right there, right close by.

Why the guilt yesterday? Why guilty feelings, anyway, at any time for us?

Is it the standards that we carry around in our minds? Is it: “Sumpter, that was sin,”—a standard of teaching? Or maybe it’s a standard of the purity of Scripture, or another, a standard of “Oh, there you go again.”

I kept driving mulling over the guilt. At a stop sign, I confessed the sin and told God of the love that I have for my own reputation. I told Him that I didn’t want the mental management of the sin and guilt—my musing about it all—to be my Savior. I determined to cling to Jesus Christ, and to ask for the enabling steps to rid myself of such sinful speech and attitudes.

Was the guilt the Holy Spirit's revealing ministry? Here’s Kris Lungaard’s reminder: “The Holy Spirit takes the horror out of the horror show. We don’t know our hearts, but he does (Psalm 139). He is a blazing torch we carry into the haunted house, and he ferrets out the monsters. He leads us into a closet under the stairs and uncovers a seething hatred. He shines under the bed and exposes a sniveling lust. No sin escapes his searching eye.”

That’s the grace of the ministry of God the Holy Spirit—revealing sin and escorting us to Jesus Christ and His cross-work.

One of my prayers for 2010 turns on security in Jesus Christ, to be thoroughly wrapped in God’s promises in Jesus. As someone said, the beginning of religion is the love of God out-poured. Security in the Father’s hands breeds the simplicity of obedience, regardless of the one or ones before whom I speak, stand or serve.

Thank You, Father, for Your love in Christ, the One through Whom I have full pardon.

G. Mark Sumpter