The Function of Guilt

The old Roadrunner cartoons feature my favorite character, Wile E. Coyote. That lovable rascal had some of the most charming facial expressions. And like Wile E., I have overshot my intended goal, too close to the edge, and felt the ground give way beneath me often. I've stared that "Oh-boy-this-is-gonna-hurt" stare. I've looked up from the bottom of the canyon, dazed and stunned.

But while Wile E. is invincible, I am not. The falls don't faze him. Within moments he is out of the pit and back at it. I don't recover so fast. I wander and fumble around, stunned and hurt, wondering if this ravine or that path offers a way out.

I liken these situations to Peter. Within hours of Jesus' prediction of his fall, Peter was atop the pinnacle - far from the pit. "Simon Peter, who had a sword, pulled it out and struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear." (John 18:10) Peter must have been smug standing beside Jesus, flashing his sword. I can imagine him saying, "Stand back, Jesus. I've got this!"

Peter expected a fight, and I can only imagine how stunned he must have been when told to put away his sword. The next thing Peter knows is that Jesus and the guards are headed down the hill. Peter is alone now with a decision to make. Stick close to Jesus, or duck into the shadows? He opts to do neither.

Luke records that Peter followed at a distance (see Luke 22:54). Not too close, not too far - near enough to see Him, not close enough to be seen with Him. Love made Peter ashamed to run (as it has me). Fear made him ashamed to draw near (likewise). The disciples chose the left side of the road and ran. Jesus chose the right side of the road and obeyed. But Peter chose the yellow stripe down the middle. BIG MISTAKE.

He would have been better off in the shadows with the rest of the disciples, or in the courtyard with the Master. But Peter is warming his hands on the devil's hearth. Three times asked about his association with Jesus, each step leading him closer to Wile E's. perch at the edge. The third denial brings forth a curse at the very thought (see Matt 26:74).

I have been there; Have you? Feeling the ground of conviction crumble at your feet. The ledge cracks, your eyes widen, and down you go. POOF!!! Now what do you do? Stay in the canyon? Many do, live their lives in the shadows, never to return.

Some dismiss their deeds. "Well, everybody has...... I have been told I was justified in........... What else could I do?" Some deny their deeds. "Fall? Me?" "Are you kidding? These aren't cuts." "I am as healthy as ever." "Me and Jesus? We're tight!" Others distort their deeds, or shift the blame. "It's his fault. "If THAT was different, I would have reacted differently."

Luke adds a chilling phrase to his account of Peter's denial of Christ. When the cock crowed, "the Lord turned and looked straight at Peter." (Luke 22:61) If Peter ever thought (or any of us, for that matter) he could keep his fall a secret, he now knows he can't. "Nothing in all the world can be hidden from God. Everything is clear and lies open before Him, and to Him we must explain the way we have lived." (Heb 4:13)

We keep no secrets from God, the one who "searches our hearts". Confession is not telling God our misdeeds; He knows them. Confession is agreeing with God that our acts were wrong, turning back from them; Repenting. ".....Then Peter went outside and cried painfully." (Luke 22:62) Each tear a confession. Each sob an admission. Peter remembers his promise to Jesus and weeps.

We do ourselves no favors in attempting to justify our misdeeds or glossing over our sins. Regularly, we come to God and say "I'm sorry." But all we really want is a band-aid. We don't want the treatment, certainly to feel as bad as Peter did. He breached his covenant, but his sorrow brought repentance. We wouldn't want that, would we? Repentance is, well, embarrassing sometimes. It means sacrifice, a struggle to set things right, forgiveness, CHANGE!!! It means exposing ourselves, possibly being open to ridicule. But that is where the eternal healing takes place.

God can't heal what we deny. He won't touch what we cover up or whitewash. How can we have communion with Him while insisting we have no sin? How can God grant us pardon when we deny our guilt?

Ahh, that word - Guilt. Isn't that what we try to avoid? Guilt. Isn't that what we detest? But is guilt so bad What does guilt imply if not that we know right from wrong, that we aspire to be better than we are, that we know there is a moral high ground and we don't occupy it. That's what guilt is: a healthy regret for knowing what we do is wrong.

Guilt is the nerve-ending of the heart. It yanks us back from the edge of the precipice before we get too close, sometimes. Godly sorrow, "...makes people change their hearts and lives. This leads to salvation, and you cannot be sorry for that." (2 Cor 7:10)

To feel guilt is no tragedy. To feel no guilt is.