We all have that little voice in our head. You know, that one that quietly says to us things such as, “You probably shouldn’t do that,” or “It would be wise if you did this,” or sadly the one that says, “I told you so.” I have that voice in my head. A lot. And I appreciate it—even when it says to me things that I don’t like.
A young woman was feeling very troubled and went to her psychiatrist saying, “I have a problem and I really need your help.” She pleaded. “Every time I find and date a nice guy, I end up sleeping with him. Afterward, I feel really guilty and depressed for weeks.”
“Ah, I see,” the psychiatrist said. “So you want me to help you strengthen your willpower so this won’t happen again.”
“Oh, no, no, no!” she exclaimed. “I want you to fix it so I won’t feel guilty and depressed afterward.”
There is no denying—life is complex. I’m not referring to the beautiful, complex intricacies of the physical world, but instead, to the perplexity of our beings—of our emotions, situations, behaviors and reactions. Especially in these modern times when we are told that up is down and down is up, it’s very difficult to navigate in a healthy, positive way.
It’s a familiar scene—a little angel with a shiny halo sitting on one shoulder, and a little red devil with his pitchfork perched upon the other. I used to hate that voice in my head telling me what I should be doing and shouldn’t be doing (especially the latter). In fact, I got very good at simply tuning it out. It slowly faded into background noise, and then faded further into just a hint of a whisper. Ah, freedom! No more guilt! I could do what felt good to me without repercussion. It was great. Problem was, it wasn’t great.
I have quite a few regrets in my life—things I chose to do that I knew I shouldn’t have done and things that I chose not to do, knowing full well that I probably should have. Notice that I said I chose to do or not do these things. I heard the voice, however small. I ignored the voice. I made my choice. Generally, and more often than not, it wasn’t necessarily the right one. Instead of feeling a freedom to walk in my own ways, I was feeling more and more burdened by the regrets that I kept piling on.
I find great comfort in the fact that I am not alone. In his letter to the Romans (chapter 7), the apostle Paul, a very spiritually humble and devoted man of God wrote:
“We know that the law is spiritual; but I am unspiritual, sold as a slave to sin. I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.
“So I find this law at work: When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Romans 7:14-25
Even Paul struggled with this same voice; the man commissioned by God to author a great portion of the New Testament through his writings to various churches. I was consoled to know that my nature was one with a propensity toward sin, toward ignoring this voice. It is part of who I am. But thankfully, I can say that it was part of who I am.When I chose to accept God’s grace by putting my faith in Jesus, I heard a new voice. It said to me the same things that for so many years I had ignored. But this time, the voice had a resonance and a beauty that is difficult to describe. While I have been transformed spiritually and embraced by God’s great love for me, I still live in a sinful body, in a fallen world surrounded by fleeting pleasures (although pleasures indeed). One day I will shed this temporary tent in which my spirit dwells, but in the meantime I have to contend with my sinful nature, this voice and how I react to them both.
You see, while I used to pile on more and more weight with each new shame, I now find freedom in feeling guilty. I am grateful to feel guilty. This sounds strange, but it is true. It means God is growing me and I am growing toward Him. Every time I do something I know I shouldn’t do, I hear that voice. Instead of running from it, I thank God that He put within me the longing to do what’s right, to make better choices, and to walk in His ways. I don’t even call it guilt anymore. I consider it a conviction—a collision between my spirit and my flesh.
There was a great show in the 50s called Father Knows Best. It was about a wise father and family man called Jim Anderson who would always give brilliant advice and solve problems for his three children Betty, Bud and Kathy. Every week there was a new dilemma and every week Jim would save the day. After all, father did know best. It’s a cheesy show by today’s standards, but spiritually speaking, it has a very sound base. If I tune out the clutter—especially that of my own rebellious will—and just listen to the gift of God’s voice, I can avoid doing those things I don’t want to do and start longing to, and actually do those things I know He wants me to.
We will continue to have struggles and there are times when we will fall down hard. But I take great solace in the freedom that Christ has given us though His victory over sinful flesh. Before ascending into heaven, He promised to send a helper to be with us until we go home to Him or until He returns. This new voice inside is the Holy Spirit, whose words are given to encourage, guide and grow us. Through His voice, we are given strength and willpower to overcome.
I am grateful that Father really does know best and that He has given me a new vantage point from which to view my shortcomings. I am glad to have a Dad who allows me to feel bad. For in this, His voice only gets louder and stronger, my weights fall away and chains of sinfulness are broken, and I am able to run and not crawl toward His freedom and joy.
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