The Turn
By: Bob Stevenson
Tags: Christianity, Gospel, Discipleship, Repentance

Repentance is a Beautiful Thing

The Turn

Repentance is a Beautiful Thing

Repentance gets a bad rap. We don’t repent when we’re feeling fine; we do it when confronted with the grim reality that yes, we were in the wrong. It is a kind of turn — the choice to stop moving toward an illicit destination and start moving toward the right one. It is the prodigal son retracing his steps to the father (Luke 15:17–19); it is the sheep being returned to the sheepfold (Matt. 18:12–14); it is how we gain back our brother (Matt. 18:15). But through all the discomfort, repentance is lovely in a way that’s so easy to miss. It is lovely for what it reveals, where it leads, and the presence it brings.

Faith, Given Form

Repentance doesn’t feel good. Not at first. It is often accompanied by exhaustion, grief or shame. But these are only ancillary to the beautiful core formed by its process. As the encrustations of pride and idolatry are burned away by a humble return to God, what remains is lovely. The humiliation of admission and reversal undo the social facade we so carefully construct and grant a glimpse into our hearts.

And in the act of return, our faith radiates with clarity, giving tangible form to our authentic trust in the invisible God.

Homeward Bound

Repentance is lovely not only for what it reveals, but also for that toward which it propels. It is the counter-narrative that speaks a better word to the Great Lie we once believed: that our deepest satisfaction and significance is waiting out there, ready for discovery.

As we hear and believe this truer story, we set our sights once again toward home. And as long as we point toward the horizon of our native land, hope blossoms within, for we know that we return not to the searing shame of a furious master, but the warm embrace of our Father’s goodness.

Inviting Jesus Inside

But the experience of this presence is not merely a future one. Almost incredibly, He is there at the moment of our repentance. This is not theological generalizing; it is a promise, secured by chapter and verse. We hear it binding up Jesus’ instructions concerning church discipline: where two or three gather in His name, He stands there with them (Matt. 18:19–20). While this certainly means He is present through the terrible reality of disciplinary exclusion, it also means that He is present in reconciliation and restoration.

We hear it also in the letter to Laodicea. Jesus stands outside when He should be inside, feasting with His people. Oh, how He should be inside! And yet sin has shut Him out. But Jesus stands and knocks. Patiently. Until the music is turned down and the door is unlatched.

And what do we find when we crack the door to behold Him who loved us and gave Himself up for us standing in the hallway of our hearts? A look of shock and surprise at the gross foolishness of our sin? The end of His shaking, extended finger thrust inches from our face in rage? No. We see His smile and hear Him say, “Now, how about dinner?” (Rev. 3:20).

The glory of the gospel is that it creates space for authentic and honest repentance. Christ knows our sin. He felt the judgment for each and every transgression we committed. He bore each one in love. And when we repent, He is there, nail-scarred hands and all.