This is the third devotion in a three-part series on forgiveness. If you have not already done so, you might find it helpful to read the first two parts: Forgiveness: What It Is, What It Isn’t and Forgiving Others.
There was once a young man who had everything going for him. He was smart, well-educated, and at least trilingual. He was the protégé of one of the greatest minds in his field, and he was being groomed to follow in his mentor’s footsteps. He was both a citizen of the greatest government on earth and an up-and-coming leader among his own ethnic group. He took part in some of the greatest political events of his day, and when that wasn’t enough, he began to orchestrate some of those events. The only problem was that he was also a terrorist. In fact, he believed he was called by God to destroy any of his fellow men who converted to a heathen religion. He made it his mission in life to hunt down and destroy those who had abandoned what he believed was the one true faith. As he became more and more successful in murdering apostates, he was given increasing power by those in authority over him. There was no stopping this man. His zeal for slaughtering those who opposed what he stood for became insatiable. Because of him, countless lives were lost and innocents executed. And he gave approval to it all.
Until, that is, he was met on the road to Damascus by the Lord Jesus. I’m writing, of course, about the Apostle Paul.
His name wasn’t Paul at the time of his Damascus trip, however. It was still Saul. And Saul was a brutal man, full of hatred for Christians, intent on destroying as many as he could, all in the name of God. It took a blinding encounter with the risen Lord Jesus Himself to change Saul’s heart.
I wonder how Paul must have felt when he realized the magnitude of the evil he had committed. Scripture tells us that he hated his sin, and I’m sure he grieved over the terrible things he had done and the awful consequences he had caused for those left behind. He must have grieved even more over what he had done to Jesus, whom he now knew and loved.
As he described himself, he was the least of all God’s saints because he had deliberately persecuted people for following Christ. He knew the vileness of his sin and must have felt it deeply. It would have been easy for Paul to spend the rest of his life wracked with guilt, unable to put it behind him, confronted with the horror of his sin at every turn.
Some of us know how Paul must have been tempted to feel. We, too, have something in our past—or maybe repeated somethings—deliberate acts which we now see for the awfulness that they were. Or perhaps we remember an innocent mistake that reaped horrifying consequences. Either way, we know what it’s like to buckle under the weight of the misery of our sin and be unable to rise. We know we shouldn’t have done it—whatever “it” was—but we did, and now we can’t change that fact. The only thing we seem to be able to do is to constantly, unremittingly condemn ourselves for our actions and grieve over the fact that what’s done can’t be undone.
We know we’re supposed to forgive others when they sin, but how do we apply forgiveness when the person we need to forgive is ourself?
To answer that question, let’s look at what Paul did. After all, he of all people had a reason to feel guilty: he had murdered countless human beings for being Christians. He had cold-bloodedly taken their lives because they loved the Lord Jesus. Yet instead of drowning in his guilt, he went on to write two-thirds of the New Testament and be perhaps the greatest witness for Christ ever. He became victorious in Christ. Many of us desperately need victory over guilt, too.
First, he repented and threw himself upon Christ’s mercy. He didn’t deny what he had done, or the depravity of it; he admitted it fully, as awful as it was. We, too, must admit what we’ve done—no excusing it, and no minimizing it. We need to see it and admit it for what it is—sin. Even if we didn’t purposely set out to sin, we must acknowledge any part of it that was deliberate, or that we could have caused to turn out differently.
Second, Paul accepted Christ’s forgiveness and spent the rest of his life living for Him. We must accept the forgiveness Christ offers, too. “But what I did was so bad, I can’t accept forgiveness,” we’re tempted to say. Remember, forgiveness isn’t given to people who deserve it. It’s given to imperfect human beings who need it. Refusing to accept Christ’s forgiveness isn’t really humility; it’s calling Christ a liar. After all, God says that whoever repents is forgiven, by His grace. We’re forgiven, whether we acknowledge it or not. When we refuse to believe that we’re forgiven, it’s like telling Christ that He’s a liar and didn’t really forgive us. “I want to believe it, but I just can’t,” we say. Sure we can. We can choose with our minds to believe that we’re forgiven even if our hearts don’t feel like it. When we accept forgiveness with our mind, feelings will follow. If we wait to feel forgiven, though, without first believing it in our mind, it will never happen. We must choose to believe what God says is true and not what we feel is true.
Finally, Paul made a point of using the memory of his sins as a reminder of God’s grace instead of a reason to condemn himself. Each time we read in Scripture that Paul remembers his sins, we also read that he turns the memory into an occasion for remembering and rejoicing in God’s incredible grace. I know this works. There was one time when I made an innocent yet terrible mistake that could have had horrific consequences. For a long time, each time I found myself in a similar situation, I would remember what I did and realize anew the awfulness of it. It wasn’t until our pastor preached on a similar situation in his life and told how he had handled it (exactly the way Paul handled it) that I realized what I needed to do. Each time I remembered my mistake, I refused to dwell on it, instead giving praise to God for His grace in what could have been a very bad situation. At first, it was hard to turn my thoughts away from what had happened and toward God’s grace, but with practice, it became easier. Now, when I remember it, I no longer feel awful. Instead, I rejoice in God’s grace. Whether your situation was a sin or a mistake, the same principle applies to you. Each time you remember what happened, refuse to dwell on the awfulness of it. Instead, magnify God and rejoice in His incredible grace. And let His grace motivate you to tell others about Him, so that they too can turn from their sins and be forgiven.
I don’t know what situation is burdening your heart. But I do know that God offers you forgiveness if you truly repent and turn to Him. I also know that He will redeem your memories so that they don’t cause you further pain but instead bless you with the opportunity to rejoice in His incredible grace. Why not run to Him right now? Let Him heal you. Let Him comfort your soul and set you free.
1 Corinthians 15:10—But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect.