Dear Blacknall family,
“Repentance” is a word with awkward associations. For some it evokes images of sackcloth and ashes and gloomy recitations of all of one’s faults, an exercise that in our moral imaginations somehow buys us merit with God in proportion to our groveling. Others remember cultural caricatures of wild-eyed prophets making dramatic declarations: “Repent! The end is near!” Others, even believers in Christ, dismiss any idea of repentance as horribly old fashioned, an unsophisticated reaction to a primitive vision of a god of wrath who must be placated by our self-loathing.
Let’s rehabilitate the word. In the New Testament, the invitation to repent always springs from the gracious heart of God, an invitation to respond to his initiative in our lives. Jesus made repentance the normative response to the nearness of the Kingdom of God: “Repent! For the Kingdom of God is at hand!” (Mark 1.15, e.g.). Indeed, it was for sinners that Christ came: “I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” (Luke 5.32).
The first disciples followed their Lord’s example in their proclamation of the Good News: “Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, for the forgiveness of your sins….” (Acts 2.38)
And why? Because to repent is to live, to live in the light of the truth of who God is, who we are, and the way we were meant to live. Put negatively, repentance is what keeps us from destroying ourselves.
Think of it this way. Many of us resist going to the doctor. As odd as it might sound, we would rather live with a vague worry (usually in the middle of the night; we are too busy during the daylight hours to think much about it) that something might be wrong than to go to the very one who can not only tell us, but who can actually do something about it! To choose “repentance” in this case is to choose life.
Or take another example. We hear a bump in the night. Instead of rising, taking a flashlight and a golf club and making our way into the living room to confront the cat who had knocked a glass off the coffee table, we instead pull the covers over our head and revert to those days of childhood when we would cover our eyes and assume that because we can’t see anyone else, no one can see us. To repent is to walk in the light of the truth.
Why do we resist? For all sorts of reasons. We are stubborn creatures, to be sure, more committed to doing things our own way than we are interested in hearing anyone else, even God, tell us how we should live. We are also afraid, afraid of what will happen to us if we give ourselves over to God: what will we have to give up? We often engage God around the perceived costs of following him.
But the New Testament word “repentance” means “to turn around.” We are walking the wrong way, away from the nearness of the Kingdom, away from the light of Christ, into the darkness, into the shadow of our own casting, making foolish choices and dangerous ones because we cannot see what we are doing. To repent means to turn around, and walk into the light of God’s gracious re-creation. As we begin to walk through the days of Lent toward the celebration of Easter, why not consider anew what it would look like to turn around and walk toward the One who holds out his hands in welcome, and to risk that He actually knows the way to life?
Yours, in hope,
Allan
Read more in the March Newsletter…
The Gathering | Anne Paulson
Honduras VBS Report | Sean & Carmen Garrigan
Reflections on the Alpha 2020 Conference | Trig Steinbrenner, Ali Shoenfelt, Elizabeth Brill