Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord and that he may send the Christ, who has been appointed for you—even Jesus. Acts 3:19-20
Dear heavenly Father, because the gospel is true, repentance is both liberating and joy-producing. It’s not our making promises to you, but you making declarations to us—especially the grandest of declarations, “Jesus is enough!” It’s only because of you and your grace that we are “in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption.” 1 Cor. 1:30
Indeed, gospel-repentance is a perpetual crying “Uncle!” that we might cry “Abba!” all the louder. It’s a coming to the end of ourselves, once again, that we might come alive to more of you. Through our repentance, you intend times of refreshing, not seasons of shame. What a Father you are—what a loving, tenacious, grace-full, engaged Father you are.
This is why I begin this day repenting, gladly—turning from my bankruptcy to your riches; turning from my plans to your providence; turning from my foolishness to your wisdom; turning from my sin to my Savior—the One you have appointed for us—even Jesus.
Father, in particular, I repent of thinking about you, more than I spend time with you—just adoring you, being with you and listening to you. I repent of carrying on a monologue with you—a one way conversation in which I so most of the talking. That’s a reflection of my sinful commitment to stay in control, at all costs. It’s also reveals the orphan-like heart that still beats within my breast. I’ve gotten too used to being alone—doing things my way. I repent of making plans I expect you to endorse. I repent of being too easily satisfied. I repent of walking more by sight than by faith.
I also repent of loving the theology of grace more than I submit to the radical implications of grace. Your grace is free to us, but it sure doesn’t come to us without “strings attached.” We don’t deserve grace; we could never earn it, but it comes into our lives like a Trojan Horse filled with transforming power. You are both “the builder and the wrecking ball”, Father. You intend more than I want, but everything for which I long.
I know I’m not as joyful as you intend. I know I’m not as free as you intend. I know I’m not as loving as you intend. As this day begins, I repent, Father. With palms up—in gratitude and surrender, I repent. I promise nothing, for you are the promise maker and keeper. So very Amen I pray, in Jesus’ glorious and all-sufficient name.
