Bouncebackedness: Part 4

For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death. 2 Corinthians 7:10

Sunday morning was that time as a kid when your mom or dad said something to you about yourself that you knew was true, but you were hoping wasn’t.

“You’re hurting your little sister/brother.”

“You know how to act better than this.”

“You are looking for attention.”

We all know the feeling: the feeling when you hear out of someone’s mouth what you haven’t yet gotten the courage to come to grips with in your own heart. While the instances above are familiar and pretty mild, this isn’t always the case for many of us now, and certainly was not for me listening to Pastor Aaron’s speaking and Paul’s writings on self-reflection and apology.

These two things are practically inseparable in our quest to become better representations of Jesus on earth. I used to be terrible at being sorry. I don’t even mean just apologizing, I mean being and feeling apologetic for any negative input I had placed in the world around me. Or any negative input I had inside myself, whether it made an appearance to anyone else or not. I did not grieve in the spirit of Heaven, I didn’t have godly strife—strife that searches for holiness and purity for no other cause than that of God and His will. My wrongs and flaws sat untouched so long as I could keep them contained under wraps.

In the world, I grieved heavily about my flaws. Do you know what I’ve come to discover time and time again? Grieving in the world is guilt. It is festering and clingy and it latches on to you. And ironically enough, it is self preserving. Guilt will keep you from being free because you feel too guilty about having guilt to receive any freedom. Grieving in the world in this way will turn your face to all the ways you could let others down, but never will it turn your face towards the cross.

Only the type of self-reflection that we lack so often, that turns our grief to Heaven, towards a hope for being better today than we were yesterday, leads us to repentance. I know, that word sounds stuffy and boring and traditional. It’s the epitome of having to identify our shortcomings in a moment of humility—something we’re never fond of doing. It doesn’t feel good at first. But perhaps it’s time we stopped feeling so good. I’m not advocating for wallowing or being ashamed—quite the opposite. I’m suggesting that perhaps, if we look at our culture today, and our nation, might what we see be the result of feeling ‘good’ for too long? Might we all benefit if we took time to self reflect, to strive and ache over the things God wants for us and our character, to humble ourselves to the reality of the things we could be doing better in our individual lives, and feel good not about ourselves in those moments, but in the hope we have inherited, and the magnificent grace that flows so freely to us?

This week, this month, I give you a challenge possibly more comforting than usual in the midst of all that is happening. Do not grieve in the world, do not give your strife to the things that pass and will pass again. Instead, spend some time looking within. Without gain or promise from the world, grieve for Heaven, repent with a heart of pure motive, and do not wait for the healing of the world around you to receive your own.

Written by: Bri Vanderveen

Edited by: Jenelle Kelly