“Like many Christians who have come before me, and likely many who will come after me, I have been beyond blessed by the church’s hymnody. There are lines in the church’s songs throughout the centuries that are implanted in the deepest places of my soul.
The poetry and verses of these songs come up in my life for myriad reasons—to arouse joy, to soften pain, to rightsize tragedy, to help me fight temptation, to help me better see God. By God’s grace, there is a song in the history of hymnody for nearly every rhythm of the Christian life.
One such verse for me comes in Charitie Lees Smith’s 1863 hymn, “Before the Throne of God Above.” In this hymn, Smith writes of Christ’s work as our great advocate as a balm for our souls. The verse I have hidden away in my mind and heart is
this one:
When Satan tempts me to despair
and tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look and see him there,
who made an end of all my sin.
Her words so capture the beauty of 1 John 2:1: “My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.”
These words— a reminder that in Christ, God is for us— are severely needed in our lives. It is hard to put into words just how powerful a grip shame and guilt can have on us, and, sadly, those of us who have experienced these evil twins do not need me to try to put into words what we are all too familiar with.
Guilt and shame can cause us to run from the very God our souls need. Like it did with Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, guilt grips our hearts and pervades our bodies, so instead of running to God, in shame we hide from his presence. What is more, because of shame and our desire to hide from God, we sew for ourselves clothes of fig leaves when before there was only unashamed freedom (Gen. 3).
Guilt and shame are merciless companions. Guilt reminds us of what we have done; shame whispers that what we have done defines who we are. Guilt follows us around replaying our failures, reminding us of words we cannot unsay and deeds we cannot undo. Shame joins the chorus, not only pointing to what we have done but also declaring who we are: broken, unworthy, unclean.
These two can gnaw away at the soul and erode joy. In the deepest places of our souls, we can convince ourselves that there is simply something about me that is unlovable. Those who know me know that I fight this very thing. I have a feedback loop of self-hatred that often plays in my mind and has followed me from my earliest days.
At times, it feels as though I cannot outrun it. On my worst days, it can feel as if shame is my mother and guilt is my father. As if I am the offspring of these terrors, and they have intertwined themselves in my very DNA.
Against these ruthless masters, nearly all attempts at deliverance fall short. The world’s greatest therapies may provide relief for a moment, but our souls need something this world cannot offer.
What our souls need is for the cosmic Judge of all to speak a better word about the crucifixion of our guilt and the death of our shame. Simply put, we need Jesus. We need him to be what only he can be and do what only he can do.
As he calmed the storm the night the disciples were at sea, we need him to still the waves of our inward anguish, and, in the justifying work of his offering his life for ours, he has done just that.
In God’s glorious gospel, when our souls are raging with despair and our spirits whirl within us, he rebukes the wind and raging waves. One day— even if not until we cross the Jordan— we will look at him with a mysterious awe similar to that of the disciples as they said, “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?” (Matt. 8:27).
Yes, in either this life or the next, in response to his life, death, and resurrection, there will be many praises upon our lips for our great Christ, and in the chorus of our praises will be the awe-inducing question, “What sort of man is this, that even my guilt and shame obey him?”
For some, the doctrine of justification may be a doctrinal point of war in which fights rage and applause is won. Yet, for many of us, the doctrine of justification is the warm solace of the soul and the graveyard of our guilt and shame.”
–Ronni Kurtz, Theology for Life: A Joy-Filled Introduction to Christian Doctrine (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2026), 161-163.
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