I used to associate it with a guilty conscience.
Like a child with cookie crumbs on his lips, I thought it was easy to “see” when I had messed up.
As I have aged, I realize that sin is not always the outer action of stealing a cookie but more often an inner problem of the heart.
And my heart often deceives me.
Conviction therefore doesn’t always come in the form of a slap on the hand.
There is not always a swift discipline. I don’t feel guilty.
Instead, God comes alongside me and whispers. “That’s not right. I expect better. Is that really the best choice?”
His words leap from the page as a story I have read and heard so many times takes on new meaning.
“Do you see how discontent the Israelites were? Do you recognize their ingratitude?”
And I understand.
And I am reminded.
It isn’t a sharp rebuke but a gentle nudging, a redirection, an opportunity to get back on the right path.
God shows me my sin so that I can willingly bring it before Him.
Admit it. Repent of it. Ask for forgiveness for it, and seek His help in living a more Christlike life.
Conviction.
We think of it like a sentence of guilt that sends us to prison.
But, for the Christian, it’s another step towards freedom.