Oh how I hate the consequences of sin.
The pain and grief that result.
The realization that life will never be the same and that this sin really messes things up.
It messes up my plans. My dreams. My life. My happiness.
It takes away my comfort, and puts sorrow in its place.
Because sin has consequences.
And I hate the consequences.
So I grieve.
I mourn because of the affliction that has been brought upon me.
I weep because there is distress on every side.
I lament because my world has been torn apart.
And I sit in this ash-heap, and I grieve . . .
Not because my sin is so great, but because misery results.
Not because my sin rains torment on the heart of God, but because my soul is shattered.
Not because my heart is full of sin . . .
That is not why I grieve.
No, I grieve because I hate the consequences.
Oh cold and prideful heart, where is the grief over sin?
Where is the shame and raw ache because I have sinned against my Lord?
Oh to be one who sits and weeps not because of consequences, but because of sin.
Look, O Lord, for I am in distress; my stomach churns.
My heart is wrung within me, because I have been very rebellious.
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