"captive to my own remorse..."

Earlier tonight as I was brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, a really vivid memory came back to me. Something from near the end of my time in college--one of the worst things that I've ever done, and hurtful to a lot of people. I was suddenly overwhelmed by guilt and shame and even fear that tightened up my chest. I told myself that "there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, for the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death." But, honestly, I didn't really believe that grace in that moment.

I remember the room. I remember generally what I did, but I don't remember everybody who was in the room or everything that I said. It wasn't until much later, probably even years, that I realized the gravity of my sin. I didn't apologize to everyone that I hurt--like I said, I don't even remember everyone who was in the room. And as with a lot of my painful memories, this one still carries a weight of guilt. Yes, Jesus has paid the penalty for my sin...and yet there are oftentimes earthly consequences to our sin--not punishments from God, no, but the effects of the Fall that we participate in. And also there are ways that we're called to make restitution and restoration of our earthly relationships in words and actions. Apologies have almost always been crazy hard for me to do. I don't think I'm alone in that weakness.

One of my favorite books is "The Great Divorce" by C.S. Lewis. Sandra McCracken wrote a song based on it called "The High Countries." And there's a line in there about how "we are just pilgrims of the great divorce / I am witness to the light, and I am captive to my own remorse." I am absolutely captive to my own remorse. Captive to the memories of the hurts that I've given and received. Captive to my past running on constant replay. I am both witness to the light of the world and someone whose gaze is fixed firmly in the darker parts of himself. And I fall to pieces fall to pieces fall to pieces, as it were.

She's currently working on a hymns album called "In Feast or Fallow," and we've sung one of her new songs a couple times at my church. It's something of an Advent hymn called "This is the Christ," and the chorus goes like this:

This is the Christ, our God and Lord
Who in all need shall aid afford
He will himself our Savior be
And from our sins will set us free

I have deep need of Jesus. I feel deep longing to be set free from my sin. I am a bundle of fear and repentance and grief and lamentation and hope and selfishness and love and doubt and too much of me and too little of Jesus.

Somehow, God has chosen to love me, though I was yet (and still) a sinner. Oh, for faith to stop and rest in Jesus.