Sometimes Poetry

but not today

Jun 30, 2026

This is one of four posts (#2) that are theologically Christian and idiosyncratic, as well as politically opinionated. It is from my life story.

Since 1971 when I began taking Jesus seriously, a foundational word used by those from whom I was learning about him was “repent.” In Mark’s gospel (1:15), it is among the first words out of Jesus’ mouth: “The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe the good news.” On my teachers lips, repentance was a deeply, even darkly earnest matter and, at times, forcefully called for.

I was taught this word meant that Jesus, being God incarnate, knew we are all sinners (“miserable offenders,” Book of Common Prayer), deserving of judgment and the fires of hell. It was haunting. And in order to escape condemnation, I had to humble myself before God: confess my sins, name them, and pledge to live a life in step with the moral norms of God revealed in the Ten Commandments. The good news in all this was that (a) Jesus had died the death that was justly mine, so now I could find new life and freedom through repentance and faith “at the foot of the cross,” and (b) the Holy Spirit would provide me the wherewithal to live a holy life.

And yet this morning, as I read slowly through Mark’s first chapter, I realized that, though personal “sins” played a huge role in the preaching of John the Baptizer (1:4-5), Jesus rarely broached the subject (for exceptions, see Mark 2:5 and John 8:3-11). His use of the word repent did not refer to turning from personal sins (never a bad idea), but implicated a far larger crisis and summoned listeners to turn to him. On the Baptizer’s lips, repent was rooted in Old Testament religion; for those who behaved in ways forbidden by Jewish scripture (think the Ten Commandments and the Holiness Code) or rabbinic tradition, getting right with God meant returning, by way of repenting and offering sacrifices, to the Mosaic and prophetic idea of righteous living. To his Old Order call to repent, John added a signature, symbolic mikvah, a public, open-air bath or immersion—a baptism.

For Jesus, the word repent anticipated a crisis far larger than simply being trapped in personal sinfulness (release from which is always a good idea).

His call for repentance pointed to a watershed moment not only in the history of Israel but in the history of planet Earth and humanity—a moment that hinged on what the divine Voice had said at Jesus’ baptism. Both Mark (1:11) and Luke (3:22) report the Voice as saying to Jesus, “You are my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.” This declaration was repeated later by the Voice at Jesus’ transfiguration (Mark 9:7), this time said for the benefit of the three disciples who were with him on the mountain: “This is my beloved son. Listen to him.”

The presence of Jesus, Creator’s beloved son, in human history is a unique, pivotal moment, and what matters is not who we are or where we’re from or how we’ve screwed up. What matters is this moment—“the kingdom of God is at hand”—and Jesus’ compassionate imperative that we turn to him—“repent and believe the good news” (1:15). And on his lips, good news refers wholly to him and his message. As well, it embraces (1) his life, suffering, and resurrection, (2) the establishment of a new, post-resurrection community, and (3) a future when, in dribs and drabs and all at once, Creator will make all things new. (I know, as cool as that number three sounds, it’s humanly impossible to imagine.)

Jesus’ most developed invitation to repent is found in Matthew 11:28-30: