In ancient times, repentance demanded some outward show of sorrow and contrition. The Jews, on their days of atonement and repentance, draped themselves in sackcloth and smeared their faces with ashes. Thus disfiguring themselves, they believed they were showing extraordinary religious zeal.
Even in the strict Calvinistic churches of Scotland, not so very long ago, a “stool of repentance” stood on the platform, facing the congregation. On this the repentant or recalcitrant sinner would sit, showing his feeling of remorse before all men.
We are inclined to face the problem of true penitence in a much different way today. We realize that there must be heartfelt sorrow for sin or evil, before God will accept anyone's excuse. But in the very definition of the word “repentance,” we see a different shade of meaning, for the word includes the idea of seeking a new way, of avoiding repetition of sin. It must become obvious on close study that the most loud-mouthed sort of wailing over some sin is meaningless if the sin is repeated shortly after the wailing has ceased. Sackcloth and ashes are not half so important in true repentance as the stern decision to find a new way and not to travel again the road of sin.
When John the Baptist journeyed up and down the land of Palestine calling men to “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand,” some were sorry for their sins and tried to repent. They hurried to the closet where the sackcloth was stored and thence to the ash pit. But a comparative few looked more deeply into the call of John and found the new Way, Jesus Christ. It is this sort of repentance that I urge. No outward expression of sorrow can be pleasing to God unless it is accompanied by the inward resolve to avoid the paths of sin in future days.
To repent rightly, we must first know ourselves. Socratic philosophy adopted this basic principle and evolved a categorical “know thyself.” Modern psychology sees lack of self-knowledge at the base of many current ills and urges us to frankly see ourselves as we really are. Every man of the world admits that there comes a time when we have to put aside dreams and hopes, and be honest with ourselves. So in true repentance we would adopt the same basic principle. Before we can really repent, we must study to know ourselves.
There's an old saying “You can't see the forest if you're too close to the trees.” Nothing is more pertinent to real self-examination. It is very difficult for us to examine ourselves in a detached sort of way. We are all inclined to feel ourselves right and everybody else wrong, much in the manner of the famed Scotchman who once said to his wife, “Mary, I think everybody in this world be a little daft except you and me, and sometimes I even have my doubts about you.”
So it is almost impossible for us really to know ourselves. The surgeon, however skillful, can't operate on himself. The dentist can't fill his own teeth. The barber can't cut his own hair. And we are all too close to ourselves to see our own lives fully. That's why Robert Burns expressed the fervent wish, “Ah, would some gift the Giftie gie us to see ourselves as ithers see us.”
Though we strip ourselves of the last vestige of covering, we finally reach the place where we are forced to admit that we really haven't the desire to probe deeply into our inner lives. We don't want to examine ourselves. Our ego covers us like a smoke screen and we see ourselves as we would like to be, as a dashing Romeo or a neglected Cinderella. And if the mirror disagrees, the mirror must be wrong.
The Order for Public Confession, which we use before the Communion service, gives us the answer. “If we diligently examine ourselves,” it reads, “We shall find in us nothing but sin and death.” That's not the answer we would like to receive, but isn't it true? Even a partial examination shows the selfishness and conceit of human nature. Man often loves all the traits he dislikes in others. The bodies that are in tended as temples for the Holy Spirit are frequently gilded pigsties. Conceit and selfishness are chains binding us to earth as securely as the ropes of Lilliput -bound Gulliver. What can we do? How can be break them?
The second step is to forget ourselves.
If it is difficult to know ourselves, this second step is still harder. It means that we have to cut through that smoke-screen of ego and realize our own helplessness and inadequacy. The portion of the Order for Public Confession quoted above goes on to say “.... sin and death from which I can in no wise set myself free.” Our own power is so limited and so futile that it deserves no coddling. What shall we do with our human, weak nature?
From an ancient prayer comes an answer. “Die unto self,” it says. Martin Luther in his catechism echoes this when he writes “I believe I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to Him.” It all points in one direction. Our human weakness and frailty is such that we can accomplish little. The good that we want to get into, traps us. When we realize our own weakness, we are more ready to forget ourselves. There are many teachers, if we will only learn.
And yet .... an architect complains that people come to him to ask him to design their houses. But they come with plans already formulated in their minds. They don't want him to design anything. They only ask him to approve the plans they have already made. Isn't that like us? In spite of our admitted weakness and ignorance, we make our own plans for life. We set our own terms of repentance. Then we come before the Great Architect and ask for a rubber stamp of approval to sanction them.
Real repentance means the realization of our own conceit and selfishness. We must know ourselves. And then it means that we must empty ourselves of perversity and egotism. We must forget ourselves. In truth, when we see ourselves for what we really are in comparison with God, we want to forget what we are. We are carnal, self-centered, mean . Let us kill that sort of nature -- drown it, as Luther suggests, by daily sorrow and repentance. The true and clear vision of the goodness, love and beauty of God makes us hate the smallness, the evil and the conceit of humanity.
“Woe is me, for I have seen the Lord of Hosts,” said Isaiah.
“O wretched man that I am,” admitted Paul.
“Depart from me, for I am a sinful man,” Simon Peter implored Jesus after the miraculous draught of fishes.
When we reach this point, we know our weakness, foulness, miser and conceit. What are we before God? Do you say, “No self-respect, no dignity, no authority left then. What am I?”
You are a sinner before a just God, empty of all that puffs up, like a deflated balloon. When you let the air out of a balloon, the good part of the sphere still remains. But it remains shriveled and shrunken. That's where repentance brings us. Humble, helpless, broken-hearted, contrite, with all the air of conceit released from us, we stand before a throne. Self is forgotten, and only god remains. And then comes the plea, “Create a clean heart in me, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” And the plea strikes a note of surety, for “A broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise.”
Know thyself. And forget thyself . And what then? then we must find ourselves, our real selves, our better selves.
Jesus tells of a man who was possessed of an unclean spirit. He cast it out and emptied himself. But the spirit returned and found its former dwelling place swept and garnished. There it gathered together seven spirits worse than itself and moved right back in. So the last state of the man was worse than the first. He knew his fault and got rid of it. But he failed utterly to fill the void with something that would help. He forsook the old way, but failed to seek the new.
Isn't that true of ordinary sorrow for sin? We cleanse ourselves, but if we remain empty, fresh evil enters. We need to clean out sin and then let the good into our lives and give it place. When you pull the weeds from a field and leave the field empty, the weeds somehow are soon back again. To plant good seed is the only permanent method for eradicating the bad. To let fresh water into a pond is better than trying to purify stagnant water.
To find yourself, give God control of your life. Commit yourself to God. Is this so hard to do? Let Christ control your work, your play, your relations to others, your income, your free time. There need be no static formula adopted, no set hour for prayer, no cut-and-dried percentage of time for God. Leave that to the ignorant. But make your basic plan of life God's plan. Observe His simple and complete rules for living. See to it that God comes first in your life. Love all men, not for the sake of being loved, but merely for the sake of helpfulness. Render to Caesar, but render also to God the things that are God's. Serve Him joyfully. Seek His way of doing things.
This sort of repentance will change our lives. Security, contentment and satisfaction will follow this kind of repentance, the seeking of a new way of life.
Said the robin to the sparrow
“I should really like to know
Why these anxious human beings
Rush about and worry so?”
Said the sparrow to the robin
“Friend, I think that it must be
That they have no heavenly Father
Such as cares for you and me.” *
“Do not worry, for your heavenly Father knows that ye need all of these things,” said Jesus. This kind of assurance follows true repentance. When we know our sin, resolutely put it out of our lives, and then find a better way of life, we may be sure that we are conforming to God's highest pattern for men. Know - forget - find. Let it be our highest aim to be empty of sin and full of God. Paul says our sinful part must die with Christ.
“I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live. Yet not I” -- my old, sinful part -- “but Christ liveth in me.”