Godly Grief

“For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death. For see what earnestness this godly grief has produced in you…” – 2 Corinthians 7:10-11

I never thought deeply about what it means to apologize until I had kids. As every parent knows, it’s only too easy for the words “I’m sorry” to actually mean “I want to get out of a consequence” or “I only regret getting caught” or “fine, whatever.” I remember breaking it down at one point into three parts: I’m sorry for what I did, this is how it hurt you, this is what I will do different (acknowledgement, remorse, restitution). Though it was probably good to talk through, I don’t recall it working very well. 

What do I want from my kids when they apologize? I don’t want them to regret what they did only because it caused them inconvenience or embarrassment. I want them to see their action from the perspective of the person they offended and within the context of their relationship with that person. I want them to care about that other person and their relationship with them so much that they feel saddened by what they did.

I wonder what God thinks of our apologies. I wonder how many of mine revolve around myself: words I say to make myself feel better, to achieve self-liberation from guilt, or simply out of thoughtless habit. I wonder how much of it is primarily motivated by regret over circumstantial consequence or embarrassment to my pride. But true remorse is “godly grief”: sorrow for my sin as it relates to God and in view of my relationship with Him. It is not ultimately about me but about Him, the one I have offended. It produces true repentance, produces earnestness, indignation, fear, longing, zeal, the avenging of wrong. “Repentance,” writes Tim Keller of this passage, “is a deep experience which profoundly affects the mind, will, and emotions.”

And true repentance leads somewhere. Self-centric sorrow traps us in the same place: it causes a kind of self-obsessed regret, a wallowing in our mistakes, a replaying of what might have been or how people think of us, that ultimately paralyzes us. Paul says it produces death. But godly grief is mobilizing. It leads to life and growth because it brings us right to the heart of the gospel. As the old hymn goes, “Could my zeal no respite know / Could my tears for ever flow / All for sin could not atone / Thou must save, and Thou alone.” There is something so sweet, so powerful in the salvation we experience through Jesus that our regret is actually gone. I don’t know about you, but sometimes my regret is so overpowering that it is an act of grace itself to find that I can be freed from it. We find, rather, that we are able to rejoice (6:9) and find comfort (6:13). “Blessed are those who mourn,” Jesus says, “for they shall be comforted” (Matthew 5:4).