The Book of Ezekiel was written during Israel’s darkest hour, the Babylonian exile. Ezekiel, a priest turned prophet, had to make sense of his nation’s coming destruction. His message is both brutal and beautiful. Israel has been unfaithful for too long, and the consequence of their rebellion against God has fallen upon them. It’s a book about separation from God, initiated by sin, and how sometimes that brokenness is the very thing that leads us back to God.
As I read Ezekiel 6, verse 9 caught my attention. In the middle of this harsh prophecy about God’s judgment on Israel, there’s this moment where the tone shifts. God speaks about the survivors of His judgment, how they will be scattered among the nations, and how “they will remember me” but only after their hearts are “broken and crushed” because of their unfaithful spirit and eyes that turned away from Him. The last part of this verse is what stands out to me: “And they will be loathsome in their own sight for the evils that they have committed, for all their abominations.”
They will recognize their transgression against God and be ashamed of it.
Loathsome in My Own Sight
That phrase resonates with me deeply because it describes a place I’ve visited many times before. At 50 years old, I’ve come to recognize a pattern I wish I could break but somehow can’t: Sin, Remember God, Repent, Restore. Rinse and repeat.
When I’m in sin, I know I’m sinning. As a Christian, there’s no ignorance defense. I recognize it’s wrong, I know it’s against God’s will, and yet I continue anyway. It’s that Romans 7 struggle Paul talks about, doing the very evil I don’t want to do.
Eventually, I reach a point where I can’t continue, where I finally turn away from the sin that’s been consuming me. This is that moment in the battle between Spirit and Flesh where Spirit wins out. I know this recognition comes only through the grace of God, when I call upon His name once again, desperate for restoration with Him.
While God is quick to show mercy, while His forgiveness flows wholly and immediately, I become loathsome in my own sight. The very moment I experience His grace most deeply is when I’m most disgusted with myself. His light makes my darkness all the more visible, and I can barely stand what I see.
When God Forgives But I Can’t Forget
The Bible is clear about receiving God’s forgiveness. We must confess our sins and repent, turning away from them with genuine sorrow and remorse. It’s as easy as that. When we do this, Scripture promises He is faithful and just to forgive us and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
The hardest part for me is living with myself afterward. Even when I know God has forgiven me, even when I know He has removed my sin as far as the east is from the west, I can’t forget what I’ve done.
The guilt and shame don’t disappear, especially when my sin has hurt people I love. I’ve lost relationships, including some truly great friendships, because of my choices. I’ve damaged trust in many relationships that survived. There’s a stain on my being that will never go away, and I’m heartbroken about that.
I feel shame not just for my sin, but for the people I’ve hurt who have chosen to forgive me. I will never be able to repay their forgiveness. Like those survivors in Ezekiel, I stand horrified in my own sight for the evils I have committed.
The Weight That Guards
I’ve only recently come to understand that the weight of the ongoing shame I carry isn’t God punishing me. It’s His way of helping me grasp the true cost of sin, not just to myself but to others. That broken heart I feel when I realize how I’ve hurt people who love me has become a sign of hope on my path of sanctification. It shows my conscience is alive and that I value relationships with God and people.
The grief I carry includes genuine love for the people I’ve hurt, and I don’t think God wants me to forget that completely. That tenderness toward others’ pain has become part of how He’s shaping my heart. This weight serves as a guardian of sorts, standing watch over my choices and reminding me of what’s at stake.
It motivates me to be better. It protects me from making similar choices again. The cost of sin has been enormous, and I forever carry the scars of relationships lost.
God’s Patient Heart
Here’s what gives me hope. I read about it in Ezekiel’s prophecy, and I witness it in my own life. God is mighty slow to anger. If I’m reading Ezekiel correctly, Israel had been rebelling for 390 years before God finally decided to break them. Think about that. Nearly four centuries of patience, of sending prophets, of calling them back, of extending mercy.
God extends that same patience to me that He showed Israel. His patience flows from His mercy, not from anything I’ve earned. I deserve judgment, not grace, and I shouldn’t take His extended mercy for granted. It took me 50 years to realize this. I’m finally accepting that all God wants is to be first in everything in my life. And sometimes the very shame that makes me hate myself is what keeps drawing me back to Him.
Teachings from a Broken Heart
Through all of this, I’ve come to understand that my broken heart serves a purpose. It has taught me things I never could have learned any other way. I’ve learned that true repentance isn’t just feeling sorry for what I’ve done, but living with the ongoing awareness of what my choices cost others. I’ve learned that I can’t trust myself to do the right thing when it matters most.
This heart, which carries permanent scars, has also taught me to treasure what I still have. Every relationship that survived, every person who chose to forgive, and every day my family still believes in me, become precious in a way they never were before. Loss has a way of teaching gratitude that nothing else can.
Living with Both Truths
I’m learning to live, holding on to both God’s complete forgiveness and my own ongoing shame. Understanding that His stance toward me is one of total acceptance, while I remain wretched in my own sight for the wrongs I have committed.
I now believe the shame I feel isn’t God’s condemnation, but the sacred reminder of what sin costs and what grace means. My broken heart reminds me of who I am. It ensures that when I do remember God, it comes from a place of genuine brokenness, not superficial repentance.
Maybe that’s what Ezekiel was getting at. Sometimes we need to see ourselves clearly, disgusting in our own sight, before we can truly know the LORD. Not because He sees us that way, but because that recognition of our true condition makes His love for us all the more overwhelming.
I still struggle with sin. I still wish next time I’ll be strong enough to resist temptation. But I’m grateful for the broken heart that keeps bringing me back to God. Ultimately, that’s where we learn to know Him completely. Not in our strength, but in our weakness. Not in our ability to avoid falling, but in our willingness to be loathsome in our own sight and call on His name anyway.
God uses our brokenness not to condemn us, but to call us home. He allows our shame to serve His good purpose, so that He can say: “Then they will know that I am the LORD.“
And slowly, painfully, beautifully, I do.
A Final Thought
I would like to end with a word about grace. The story of my shame is incomplete without talking about the grace I’ve received from the most important person in my life. After 26 years of marriage, my wife has become my greatest teacher. She is a much better human being than I will ever be. She knows all my transgressions, every failure and mistake I’ve made, yet chooses to forgive me completely.
What amazes me most is how she carries this forgiveness. She doesn’t bring up the past or point fingers. She doesn’t weaponize human failures. She simply chooses to forget and let it go. Completely. Unconditionally.
Recognizing that forgiving doesn’t mean condoning, watching how she lives out grace daily makes me want to know and trust God the way she does.
To me, she is God’s forgiveness in flesh and blood, a true gift from God. I love you.