Guilt. It’s like winter in Seattle. The grey always hanging around, covering up any light that tries to sneak in. When you try to run from it, putting on layers and turning the heat in the car all the way up, you feel better for a while. But eventually, the chill resurfaces in your bones and you just can’t shake it.

I’ve been living with guilt my whole life. I don’t know where I picked it up, but I want to put it down, bury it and never mourn its death.

Guilt has chased after me, clung to my clothes like bonfire smoke and tried to stifle me in big and small ways. The big ways are debilitating, but the little ways. . .Those are the ones that eat away at your soul.

I should have worked out today.
I need to clean.
My to-do list is so long and I’ll I’m doing is sitting here.
I could love my husband better.
We don’t have kids. Should we have already had kids?
I’d weigh less (and look better) if I hadn’t eaten that cookie.

The list goes on and on. I’m drowning in things I could have done different, should do different, or promise myself I’ll do different tomorrow.

Yet, when I stop running from the guilt, and let it catch me, I can pick it up and turn it over in my hand. That’s when I see the truth: My guilt is always about what I want to look like to other people.

I want “them” to look at me and love me. I want “them” to think I’m great. Most often, it’s a far darker desire: I want “them” to not be ashamed to know me.

So when I stop running, when I give myself time to examine the clouds that chase me, I realize that fretting over all the things the world tells me to do will never feed my soul.

And if it comes down to feeding my soul, guilt will never do that. Only the God who created me can. You see, this, right here, this is where I believe that many in our wonderful faith tradition have gotten stuck. We tell ourselves that our guilt is from God.

But, my friend, I don’t believe that guilt is from God. Guilt nags at you even after you’ve been forgiven. God tells you that if you accept His grace, you are washed clean, period.

Guilt claws at your back, telling you that today wasn’t good enough, but tomorrow could be. God tells you that in him you’re already good enough.

Guilt wounds. God heals.

But conviction, conviction is holy. Conviction doesn’t tear apart your soul. Conviction feeds it. Why? Because while guilt separates, conviction draws you in.

This is where some may say that I’m just mincing words. But I’m not. For me, they are completely and utterly distinct. Or at least I want them to be.

Using two different words lets me examine my feelings and see where they are coming from. It lets me assign different answers to each question I ask.

Are the clouds clawing at my soul, or is God pursuing my heart?

You see, when you define it differently, you get to have a different answer. You get to throw away the guilt and keep the conviction. You get to ask God for help. You get invite Him in, and ask Him to help clean you up, rather than push Him away because you feel too dirty. And that, that’s the stuff that will feed your soul. Instead of clinging to you, it will free you.

I don’t know about you, but I want that freedom.