Rejoicing in God’s Grace

By Fr. Jerry Pokorsky ( bio - articles - email ) | Mar 02, 2026

We live in an age that speaks constantly of self-esteem and self-expression, yet rarely of sanctifying grace—the only source of enduring joy. Among the most serious spiritual problems in the world today is the failure to delight in God’s grace. The Transfiguration of the Lord on Mount Tabor reveals Jesus as the beloved Son of God, foreshadows the Resurrection, promises sanctification, and anticipates heavenly glory.

The Transfiguration teaches us about the Kingdom of God within our hearts, sanctifying grace, and the joy we experience when we are in a state of grace. When Peter exclaimed, “Lord, it is good that we are here” (Matthew 17:4), he experienced, however briefly, the spontaneous joy of beholding divine glory.

God shares His love by showering us with grace. The many movements of actual grace prepare, sustain, and restore us, and they find their fulfillment in sanctifying grace. Actual grace impels us to fulfill His will, maintain the gift of sanctifying grace, or calls us to repentance so that we may recover it if lost.

Sanctifying grace is the light of Christ within our hearts. God infuses and expands sanctifying grace into our hearts with the Sacraments. We instantaneously lose sanctifying grace when we turn away from God and commit a mortal sin (a gravely evil action committed with knowledge and full consent of the will). We regain sanctifying grace with repentance and perfect contrition (we repent of the sin because we’ve offended God, not merely because we fear punishment) or with a worthy sacramental Confession.

The bright light the Apostles saw on the mountain is the same kind of light that fills our souls through grace. God “transfigures” us. The glory of Christ on Tabor shines inwardly within the baptized soul in sanctifying grace.

When we lose sanctifying grace—the light of Christ in our souls—through the commission of a mortal sin, we not only lose the right to heaven, but we also forfeit the deep spiritual peace that flows from friendship with God. A member of organized crime—or anyone who knowingly persists in grave injustice—may make millions, but loses the happiness that comes with a good conscience. Exterior success cannot compensate for interior darkness.

An integral Confession includes an examination of conscience, repentance, sorrow, confession, and penance. Such a Confession, made with sincerity and completeness, with God’s grace, repairs a guilty conscience, removes guilt, and restores sanctifying grace in our hearts. We may still have to deal with the consequences of our sins, but a good Confession gives us certainty of our good standing in the Church and before God.

When a child disobeys his Mom and touches the hot stove, Mom grants her forgiveness when he comes crying to her. But the child needs an ointment to treat the sting of the burned finger. Similarly, Confession removes the guilt of, say, the sin of adultery. But a sincere penitent must pick up the pieces of his life according to his wits, strengthened and guided by God’s continuing actual graces. Forgiveness obliterates guilt; grace strengthens the wounded will. Upon receiving the absolution of the Church, God lifts the burden of guilt and sets us free. Our job is repentance—and delight in His mercy.

Stories abound about penitents who can’t bring themselves to “forgive themselves.” In extreme cases, the inability can even lead to the taking of one’s life. It may seem shocking or insensitive to suggest that it is impossible “to forgive myself” for my sins. At best, the phrase is a code for an inability to dismiss or properly manage the memory of one’s transgressions. At worst, it is a recipe for despair, like the sin of Judas. Despair fixates on an autonomous self; repentance fixes its gaze on God.

The Devil, who has access to our memory and imagination, grotesquely delights in stirring the pot of discouragement, even after a good Confession (cf. Ignatian spirituality). The Devil does not want us to trust in God’s mercy. He hates the joy of our spiritual transfiguration and rages with our delight in God’s grace. He wants us to die in our sin.

Hence, he whispers a diabolical commandment, impossible to attain: You must forgive yourself! He reminds us of the illicit joys of our sins and beckons us back to the scenes of the crimes. He tries to convince us that we failed to repent of our illicit pleasures. He subtly shifts our focus from God’s mercy to our own unworthiness. (If some form of illicit pleasure wasn’t the object of the sin, what was? Repentance objectively rejects the act, not the subjective feeling!)

But just as we have often lost a sense of sin, we often underestimate or suppress our delight in sanctifying grace. Only God forgives. Only God infuses sanctifying grace into our hearts. Only God will show us how to navigate the difficult path we made for ourselves after the commission of grave and self-destructive sin. To accept His forgiveness with gratitude and joy is not presumption; it is authentic humility.

Among the most important messages of the Transfiguration is the joy of the Apostles as they witnessed the glory of Christ. The Apostles descended the mountain strengthened by a glimpse of glory. Likewise, the memory and prospect of sanctifying grace sustain us as we take up our crosses and follow Christ.

God loves us. He forgives a repentant heart. He transforms our souls with His grace. His loving Providence redirects us to the path of salvation. The Christian life is not merely the avoidance of mortal sin; it is the joyful possession of divine life within the soul.

“Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.” (Romans 12:12) Like Peter on the mountain, we are meant to say—even now, even in this valley of tears—“Lord, it is good that we are here,” because sanctifying grace is already the beginning of heaven.