In a world where we’re constantly urged to shout about how awesome we are, the Lenten tradition of sober introspection seems strangely anachronistic. After all, if we’re all so amazing, why would we look inside and discover something far less flattering?
Some years ago, a patient consulted with me having been sacked. But despite their dismissal being wholly justified, given their criminal misconduct in the workplace, they nonetheless felt that they had been unfairly treated.
And so I spoke to them about two types of guilt. Firstly the self-pitying guilt of those who are only concerned by how their wrongdoing has adversely affected themselves. And secondly, the healthy ‘gutsy guilt’ that admits one’s wrongdoing, accepts the responsibility for it, and seeks, where possible, to make amends. The guilt felt by those who say ‘sorry’ without adding a clause to their apology beginning with either an ‘if’ or a ‘but’ so as to either excuse the behaviour or suggest it was never really wrong in the first place.
I urged them to adopt the latter approach, but I’m not sure my advice was accepted, given that I subsequently had a complaint made against me for not being affirming enough of my patient’s behaviour.
And therein lies a problem.
Because whilst it is of course possible to feel guilty for things that aren’t our fault, it remains the case that sometimes our guilt is real. And when it is, our rehabilitation has to begin with an acceptance that we are to blame. Because only then is there a chance of genuine repentance – and with that the chance of genuine forgiveness.
That said, the one who inappropriately feels guilty for everything needs to be taken gently to one side to have it explained that their insistence that they are responsible for every evil in the world is, in fact, a form of arrogance. Because to believe that one is to blame for everything is to imply, albeit unknowingly, that one has god-like sovereignty over the universe such that there needs to be confession of pride and repentance of imagined superior significance.
But to return to genuine guilt, let’s now consider how gutsy guilt can prove beneficial, firstly by considering another story from my days as a doctor.
One Sunday morning, I visited a patient at home. He was significantly unwell and undoubtedly warranted hospital admission. But thinking a blue light ambulance wasn’t required, I requested one within the hour.
Unfortunately the paramedics arrived about an hour and a half later and, to cut a long story short, the patient died en route to hospital. Inevitably I felt bad about the decision I had made and the following day I discussed the case with my colleagues.
Most kindly reassured me that I’d acted appropriately, that the late arrival of the ambulance was to blame, or that the outcome would have been the same even if I had called for a more urgent response.
But the response that helped most was from my senior partner who shared of a mistake he had once made which had tragic consequences and spoke of how hard it is to live with our mistakes.
But here’s the thing – it’s always better to apologise for our mistakes rather than pretend they didn’t happen. I’ve messed up and had to say sorry to patients. And I was always glad when I did – such was the gracious forgiveness I received.
I am reminded of the day a Jehovah’s Witness came knocking at my door.
After engaging me in conversation they asked me if I wanted to go to heaven. I said I did and was told that all I needed to do was to become a Jehovah’s Witness and live a good life as defined by their own set of rules. And so I asked them what difference it would make if I was a bad person. To which they replied by trying to reassure me that I wasn’t bad.
That was all they had to offer me – denial – urging me not to accept what I know is true.
What a contrast that is to the gospel – that offers full salvation to the one who confesses their sins, repents of their wrongdoing, and asks God for forgiveness.
Only Christianity offers a solution to the problem that we cannot deny – that we are guilty. Because on the cross, Jesus paid the penalty for all our sin – He took our place, bearing the punishment that our wrongdoing deserved.
And so we are forgiven – with no ifs or buts.
Because, ‘if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.’ [1 John 1:9-10]
Related posts:
To read ‘Hope in the Ashes: Why Sin Remains But Does Not Reign’, click here
To read ‘Hope for the Guilty’, click here
To read ‘When our best isn’t good enough’, click here
To read ‘On Being Confronted by the Law’, click here
To read ‘On Narcissism…an the Pot Calling the Kettle Black’, click here
Some musings 