The Gift of Conviction

By Darryll Davis

It's fitting that I should share my story in the weeks leading up to Easter. Around Easter of 1991, I was submerged into a very cold, galvanized water trough used for baptisms at the Kentucky State Reformatory. I came to faith in Christ in July 1989 while out on bond awaiting trial. As my thoughts of growing in Christ certainly included baptism, I committed the time and location to prayer.

In October 1990, I was tried and sentenced to prison for wanton murder after a drug deal gone bad. Later, I was sent to the Reformatory in La Grange where I was given that sweet privilege of baptism. I clearly recall the chaplain’s words. "Darryll,” he said, "I’m sorry to inform you of this, but the waters of Jordan are going to be very cold this morning. The heater for the baptismal trough isn’t working.”

A very long-winded chaplain, who I came to love and respect highly, presided over the baptism as I sat in the coldest water I’ve ever purposely entered. The funny thing is, my excitement ran so high that it really didn’t matter that my heart was beating rapidly or that each breath was quick and shallow. What did matter was that, in the first days of my walk with Christ, I was obedient and excited to grasp a new life—a life filled with grace, forgiveness, and a new lens to view what many people would deem the worst possible situation in life: decades of prison.

The prison that became my residence, however, paled in comparison to the prison I had been living in for many years prior. These cold metal bars posed much less of a threat to me than the sabotaging mindset that had held me in bondage before I was born again. This new prison offered me far more freedom than my former enslavement outside of Christ.

In those first years of incarceration, I recall spending some of the more inquisitive days seeking answers to hard theological questions. I also recall a kindhearted, wise chaplain who turned me back time and time again to the simple things of God. While there is much to be gleaned in the study of theology, he reminded me, our most important paradigm is a close, intimate relationship with Jesus through the Holy Spirit.

WHAT REPENTANCE IS NOT

Throughout the next several years, I sought earnestly to understand what a life of intimacy would look like with my Savior. The closer I seemed to get to Christ, the clearer I could see how short I fell short as I continued to sin against Him. The more I recognized my inability to walk circumspectly, the more I realized my continual need for repentance. With this in mind, I wanted to understand what true repentance is. As I read through the New Testament, I happened across something equally as important: what repentance is not.

In Matthew 27:3, I was shocked that some older versions of the Bible say that Judas “repented himself” (KJV) when he returned his 30 pieces of blood money to the chief priests and elders after betraying Jesus. But upon further investigation, I discovered the Greek word used in this passage merely expresses a worldly sorrow or a simple regret. We see this same worldly sorrow in Hebrews 12:16-17 as Esau sought “repentance” with tears, but there was no true repentance to be found in him.

This worldly kind of “repentance” was familiar to me. In the days shortly after my arrest and release after posting bond, I remember the regret I carried. Regret for not thinking such a heinous act through. Regret for hurting those close to me and possibly ruining everything I worked so hard to accumulate in my life. It was worldly sorrow indeed—mere regret for getting caught.

WHAT REPENTANCE IS

To avoid the dreadful mistake of stopping short of true repentance for my sin, I continued to spend my early days of incarceration studying what true repentance looks like according to God’s Word.

Different from worldly sorrow, the New Testament uses a unique Greek word—metanoia—to refer to the change of mind that comes about by God’s influence on our minds and hearts. This divinely-ordained changing of the mind influences our hearts to hate the sin we once clung to, allowing our hearts to redirect our love and affinity to Jesus.

Finally I had discovered what it means to live a life of intimate relationship with Jesus. A life of intimacy with Christ is a life that is sensitive to the truth of God and the conviction of the Holy Spirit. It’s a sensitivity that confesses the wrongness of our sin and yields to the Godly sorrow the Spirit produces in our hearts and minds. Even more than that, an intimate relationship with Jesus involves a heart that aligns itself with the truth and behaves in a way that glorifies God—even through our own feeble and finite lives in the here and now! As we continue to sin and fall short in this life, each of us is called to a life of intimacy with Christ that walks hand-in-hand with a repentant heart.

To repent is to give ourselves entirely to the Lord, day after day. It means turning from those dark paths we have walked for so many years and setting off on a journey toward a new horizon glowing with eternal light. It is so much deeper than worldly sorrow and outward behavior. Rather, God says, “...return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning. Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the LORD your God...” (Joel 2:12-13 NIV®)

This intimacy can be yours. Whether you have walked with Christ for a while and you’re desiring a deeper relationship, or you’ve never accepted Jesus as your Savior, I can’t think of a better time than this Easter season to seek the abundant life each of us is promised in and through Jesus. By faith and repentance, the gift of His sin-atoning death and life-giving resurrection become securely ours. He is risen! He is risen indeed.