Guilty

I stared at the old Singer treadle sewing machine. I had always been fascinated by the foot-powered machine, which required steady foot action and carefully coordinated movement of fabric and thread tensions. It was a graceful dance of feet, fabric, and fingers.

But that day, I focused on the small accessory drawer attached to the sewing machine cabinet, which tabled the sewing machine and housed the treadle (foot pedal).

Earlier in the day, my grandmother had pulled a pair of snipping scissors from the cabinet drawer for my Momma to use as she hemmed a dress.

The scissors took my breath away. They were beautiful with intricate carvings. A princess would use scissors of this sort to cut out her paper dolls. The scissors were etched and shaped to look like a swan.

I wanted those scissors more than I could remember ever wanting anything. The scissor-swan had been calling my name since I saw it. I could think of nothing besides the scissors.

The sewing machine sat before a large bay window in the farmhouse gathering-dining room. The room was empty. With a racing heart, I casually approached the sewing machine, stretching as I moved forward as though I wanted to look out the window. I reached down and quietly slid the accessory drawer open. The scissors lay on top of spools of thread, thimbles, measuring tapes, and pincushions.

I snatched the scissors, hid them in my skirt pocket, and raced up the old staircase to the bedroom assigned to me and my sisters during our stay. I immediately hid my stolen prize in my suitcase under layers of underwear and play clothes, then hurried back downstairs.

I didn’t look at the swan scissors for the rest of our visit and tried my best not to think about them. But on the cusp of my conscience, a persistent feeling was working to make itself known.

By the time we reached our Texas home, a full-fledged case of guilt was raging inside of me. I unpacked my little bag and shoved the swan scissors under a stack of folded pajamas in the top drawer of my bedroom chest. I didn’t want to see the scissors. I didn’t want to touch the scissors ever again.

I told myself, “Those scissors made me a thief!”

But I knew better. No more than six years old, I knew the truth. The swan scissors were not to blame. I was to blame. I made me a thief.

A day or two passed, and I could bear the guilt no longer. I pulled the scissors from the drawer and carried them to my mother. I was ready to confess my guilt and accept whatever punishment Momma determined I deserved.

Momma couldn’t understand what I was saying through my sobs and tears. But when I handed her the swan scissors, she instantly knew what I had done. Her face displayed her disappointment, and her words were firm but gentle.

I braced myself, knowing discipline was coming—likely in the form of a spanking. I cried even harder when Momma told me what I had to do.

Momma would package the scissors to return to Grandma. The package would include a letter of confession and apology written by me.

At that moment, a spanking sounded preferable. I had childishly hoped Momma would return the scissors without mentioning how they had come home with us. I didn’t want my Grandma to think I was an untrustworthy thief who would steal from her grandmother. Now she would know the truth about me – I was a thief.

I was mortified.

With Momma’s help, I wrote the letter confessing that I stole the scissors and expressing my sorrow for my behavior. Mom mailed the letter to Grandma along with the swan scissors. I was forgiven, and the incident was never mentioned again. Although I’ve made many mistakes, I’ve never stolen again.

The guilt of my actions was nothing compared to knowing I had disappointed my mother and grandmother. It was awful—it was a whole other level of guilt that I had never felt before. But honestly, the worst of it was knowing I had disappointed God.

I can’t remember if Momma prayed with me or if I prayed by myself, but I remember that I prayed and told God that I knew what I did was wrong and that I was truly sorry for stealing and disappointing Him. Ahhh. Sweet forgiveness. My slate was wiped clean.

I tell you this because I talk to many folks who live their lives day in and day out carrying a lot of guilt. Guilt over hateful remarks, lies they’ve told, pains they’ve caused, and offenses committed against others and against God.

Guilt is a heavy load to bear. Unconfessed guilt and unrepented wrongs pile hard one atop another until the one bearing the ever-growing mountain of guilt buckles under the weight of it all. Guilt can be debilitating – emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

When we insist on holding on to our guilt, we cannot experience the peace of mind, heart, and spirit, as well as the goodness and grace God wants for His children. Holding onto guilt is as bad for us as refusing to turn loose of anger, hurts, and disappointments.

Holding onto things that God intends us to confess, repent of, and surrender to Him allows those things to become the controlling force in our lives.

For those who have never turned to Jesus to place their faith in Him, confess their wrong-doings (sins), and commit themselves completely to Jesus as their Lord and Savior, the first step is repentance and surrender. Without true repentance, you cannot know the sweet release and peace of mind of a slate wiped clean. Guilt gone.

Believer, are you holding on to assorted guilts, past or present? Are you nurturing anger, old grudges, resentment, hurt, or fear? When you surrendered your heart to Christ, your past was wiped clean. You were forgiven of all your sins—past, present, and future.

But if you have dredged up and are now holding onto guilt, it is eating you alive. It is destroying your peace, your relationships, and your testimony for Christ.

You cannot wish your guilt away. If you harbor guilt in your heart, you will never bury it deep enough to be forgotten. You cannot wipe it away. But God can, and He will if you humble yourself before Him and ask for forgiveness and renewal.

Father God,
Please give us the faith we need to surrender fully to you. Give us the courage to confess and repent of the guilt, resentment, anger, or whatever it may be that we try to tamp down and control on our own. We can’t do it. We ask for Your mercy, grace, and forgiveness. Only You, God. Only You.

Amen

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