I had a dream the other night. And before you read too much into this, let me clarify: I’m not building a theology based solely on dreams. I’m not claiming God spoke to me in an audible voice. It was just a dream. But it hit me like a freight train, and it hasn’t let me go since.
In this dream, I had died and gone to heaven. (No smart comments about my destination, please.) When I arrived, I began encountering people from my past—family members, old friends, and even acquaintances from the churches I’d been a part of over the years. Some were people I had loved deeply but hurt through my poor choices, while others were those I’d hurt unintentionally.
That’s when the weight hit me. In the dream, I felt an overwhelming need to apologize to everyone. For everything. For being a broken man. For the mistakes, the failures, the sins that piled up in my life like debris after a storm. For my divorce. For my pride. For the times I didn’t love well. For the ways I disappointed people. I was emotionally undone, embarrassed, and raw to the core.
It was almost crushing, like every unresolved regret had followed me right through heaven’s gates.
Please hear me: I’m not saying this is what heaven will be like. Dreams are strange. But if you stick with me, I think you’ll see the point.
WHEN AN OLD FRIEND SHOWS UP
While I was in this dream, still carrying that mountain of pain, an old friend walked up to me. His name was Paul. He had passed away years earlier. We were close—he was one of those rare friends who knew how to love well and tell the truth even better.
In the dream, Paul greeted me the same way he always had. He hauled off and smacked me hard on the shoulder. That was his thing—he never said hello without leaving a bruise.
Then he looked me dead in the eye. There was a stern expression on his face as he said, “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” I asked.
“Stop apologizing. You don’t need to keep doing this. You don’t need to keep asking everyone to forgive you.”
In the dream, I was ready to argue. In real life, arguing with Paul always earned me another hit on the shoulder, and this would have been no exception. But before I could say a word, he just pointed.
Across the way, I saw the back of a man. I couldn’t see His face. I didn’t need to. Paul simply said, “That Man paid the price so you don’t have to carry this anymore. You don’t need to apologize because He covered it all. All of it.”
Then Paul spoke the words that ripped through me like lightning: “You are not guilty.”
Not “less guilty.” Not “partially forgiven.” Not “on probation.”
Not guilty.
I woke up with those words still echoing in my soul.
WHY THIS DREAM SHOOK ME
Here’s why this hit so hard: I’ve lived most of the last couple of years with a low-grade fever of guilt and shame. (Read more about it here.) I’ve often carried this relentless need to make things right with everyone. To apologize one more time. To prove somehow that I’m not the sum of my failures.
If you know my story, you know I’ve blown it big. Divorce wrecked my life and my ministry. I made choices that broke trust and shattered hearts. And even after months of repentance, months of counseling, months of trying to rebuild—I’ve carried this sense that I owe the world an apology that will never be enough.
There’s a voice that whispers, You can never make it right. You can never be clean. People will never forget what you did.
And honestly? That voice has shaped how I walk into rooms. It’s made me shrink back in conversations. It’s kept me from stepping fully into what God has called me to do because, deep down, I’ve believed I’m damaged goods.
But that dream—and more importantly, the truth behind it—called that lie out for what it is.
THE GOSPEL I’VE PREACHED BUT STRUGGLED TO BELIEVE
Here’s what struck me when I woke up: the gospel I’ve preached for decades also applies to me too.
If the cross means anything, it means this: my debt has been paid in full.
Not halfway. Not most of it with me picking up the balance. Paid in full.
The Scriptures say it like this:
“But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.” (1 John 1:7, NIV)
Did you catch that? All sin. Not just the “small” ones. Not just the ones that don’t make the gossip circuit. All.
That’s either true or the gospel is a cruel joke.
BUT WHAT ABOUT THE PEOPLE WHO DISAGREE?
Let me be honest: not everyone will celebrate this truth with you. Some people prefer you guilty. Some need you to be guilty because it justifies their bitterness. It validates their narrative.
And let me say this plainly: they’re not entirely wrong to feel hurt. My choices hurt people. There are consequences for sin. Some of those consequences will follow me to my last breath.
But consequences and condemnation are not the same thing.
There’s a massive difference between living with the reality of consequences and living under the sentence of guilt. One acknowledges what happened. The other chains you to shame forever.
Some folks will keep trying to chain you to shame. They’ll say, You should still be paying. You should still be explaining. You should still be apologizing.
But if the gospel is true—and I’m staking my life on the fact that it is—then Jesus didn’t die to make me almost free. He didn’t suffer so I could live with a reduced sentence. He died to set me free completely.
C.S. Lewis said it best: “I think that if God forgives us, we must forgive ourselves. Otherwise, it is almost like setting up ourselves as a higher tribunal than Him.”
Let that sink in. When I keep carrying guilt for what He has already forgiven, I’m acting like my judgment is more powerful than His mercy.
THE SONG THAT SEALED THE DEAL
As if God wanted to drive the point home, later that same day, after the dream, I heard a new song by Tauren Wells called Not Guilty.
That title stopped me cold because it was the exact phrase ringing in my soul from the dream.
The lyrics echo this truth: we are free because of what Christ did. Not because we finally got our act together. Not because we said enough “I’m sorrys.” Not because we’ve earned a second chance.
Free because Jesus paid for every failure with His own blood.
I sat there listening, and tears rolled down my face. For the first time in a long time, I believed it. Really believed it.
DO I STILL HAVE REGRETS? ABSOLUTELY.
Don’t misread me. I’m not shrugging off the pain I’ve caused. I’m not pretending the fallout didn’t happen. I pray every day for healing and reconciliation where it’s possible. I’ve taken responsibility for my actions and will continue to do so if needed.
But regret and guilt are not the same thing. Regret says, I wish I had chosen differently. Guilt says, You’re condemned forever.
And if Romans 8:1 means anything, it means this:
“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
No condemnation. None.
If Jesus says I’m free, who am I to argue?
WHY THIS MATTERS FOR YOU
Maybe you’ve never been divorced. Maybe your failures look different than mine. But I know this: you’ve got a list too. A list of things you wish you could undo. Words you wish you could unsay. Choices that haunt you.
And maybe you’ve lived under the crushing weight of guilt for so long, you think that’s just your normal.
It’s not.
If you belong to Jesus, your guilt is gone. Period. The enemy may continue to shout about it. People may continue to remind you of it. But heaven’s verdict is final: Not guilty.
THE GOOD NEWS IS STILL GOOD NEWS
At its core, the gospel is scandalous because it doesn’t make sense. It’s not fair. It’s not earned. That’s why it’s called grace.
And that grace isn’t just for the sins you committed before you knew Christ. It’s for the ones you swore you’d never commit again. It’s for the train wrecks you didn’t see coming and the ones you walked straight into with your eyes wide open.
That’s why Jesus said from the cross, “It is finished.” Not “It is started.” Not “It’s halfway done.” Finished.
Your debt. My debt. Paid in full. (Here is another great article to check out about how to live free.)
SO WHAT NOW?
Here’s what I’m learning to do, one day at a time:
• Stop rehearsing what God has already forgiven.
• Refuse to live under a verdict that heaven overturned.
• Walk in the freedom Jesus died to give me—even when others don’t understand.
Does that mean I never feel the sting of regret? No. Does it mean I still don’t long to make things right? Of course not. But it does mean I refuse to live chained to a sentence that was nailed to the cross two thousand years ago.
Friend, if Jesus says you’re not guilty, believe Him. Live like it’s true because it is.
FINAL WORD
Some of you reading this still want me to pay. Still want me to wear the scarlet letter. I get that. But here’s the truth that changed everything for me: the gospel means I don’t get what I deserve. The Good News is good news, granting me forgiveness and mercy because of what Jesus did.
And that will never stop blowing my mind.
So today, I’m done apologizing to everyone in heaven and on earth for what Jesus already bled and died to forgive.
The cross settled it. The blood of Christ sealed it. The empty tomb confirmed it.
I am not guilty. And neither are you if you are in Him.
I’d love to hear from you—seriously.
Drop a comment below and let’s start a conversation. Your thoughts matter, and they might just encourage someone else as well.
Want more stories, hope, and honest insights? You can find me on X and Facebook, or delve deeper into my heart and writing on my website.
My books are available too, if you’re curious (or just need something to read with your coffee).
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