My dad tells the story of going back to church after a wayward spell of living like a prodigal. He tried his best to keep a low profile and not be noticed by anyone, but it wasn’t long before the Holy Spirit sat down next to him in the pew. A titanic battle ensued as the red-faced preacher started bellowing his message. The Spirit of God wielding the hammer of the Word of God pounded away on the anvil of his heart. He recalled, “I got really mad at the preacher. I thought he’d been snooping around in my life. There he was preaching about every sin I was doing.” When the invitation was given, he white-knuckled the pew. “When I left church that day, I vowed I would never return,” dad said. But next week, there he was wrestling with God like Jacob on the banks of the Jabbok. Round three came the following week. Eventually, the “Hound of Heaven” conquered. My dad recalled bitter tears of confession and repentance. Even though he’d been bested by the Lord, my daddy got up from the altar strangely victorious.
Growing up a wrestling fan I know all about submission holds. Ric Flair’s signature move was the “Figure Four.” Sting tapped many a man out with the “Scorpion Death Lock.” Don’t forget Lex Luger’s “Torture Rack.” Those moves are tough, but there’s nothing more agonizing than when the Holy Spirit puts you under the vice grip of conviction. That’s what my daddy fought against in the pews of Mt. Pisgah Baptist Church, and perhaps you have too.
Conviction is when the Holy Spirit initiates a painful prick upon the conscience which inflames feelings of guilt, shame and sorrow over sin. Like a submission lock, it can be excruciating and difficult to escape. Jesus spoke of the Holy Spirit’s ministry in John 16:8, “And when he comes, he will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment.”
But conviction is more that just emotionalism OR as Adrian Rogers used to say, “a quiver in the liver.” Conviction is not merely a metal assent to the idea of divine punishment or momentary fear of the flames of hell, although these may accompany it. Conviction is to loathe sin and to utterly abhor oneself in the presence of God’s searing holiness.
Isaiah felt it when he cried, “Woe to me! . . . I am undone! For I am a man of unclean lips and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty” (Isaiah 6:5). Peter was confronted with it, “But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord” (Luke 5:8). The risen Christ exposed Paul’s resistance to it, “And when we had all fallen to the ground, I heard a voice saying to me in the Hebrew language, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads.’” (Acts 26:14).
As exhausting as it is fight to against it, we must praise the Lord for conviction. It is a grievous gift, for without it, there could be no salvation. No one is saved apart from the Spirit’s convicting and regenerating work in the heart. As C.S. Lewis explained in Surprised by Joy, “The hardness of God is kinder than the softness of men, and His compulsion is our liberation.”[1]
When conviction coils and constricts around our hearts like an anaconda, we can either fight it or surrender to it. “Therefore, as the Holy Spirit says, “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion,” Hebrews 3:7-8 says. Let us learn to run to Jesus and not from Him when conviction comes. For if we do, the Spirit of God will lead us to the Son of God, where we can experience the freedom of forgiveness and the calm of cleansing (Ps. 51:7-12).
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