Wednesday, February 25, 2026
I grew up in a faith tradition that was part of the holiness movement. It began in the late 1800s, out of Methodism, and formed into several denominations. One of the key beliefs of the holiness movement is that one could live above sin. God would not say be ye holy, if we weren’t able to attain it.
With the presence of the Holy Spirit in the believer's life, a Christian could live without sinning.
As a result of that theology, there existed Christians that believed they hadn’t sinned in years. Confession and repentance were not a regular part of those believers lives. You confess once, repent, and live perfect. You go to church, enjoy a good buffet after church and everything’s good.
The real world would tell us differently. We are human. We miss the mark. Tish Harrison Warren said “Failure in the Christian life is the norm.” There is a freedom in realizing that we’re not perfect. It reminds us how deeply we are in need of grace.
How good it is that our regular practice involves confession. Together, on our knees amidst a community of imperfect people, we confess the things that we’ve done and have left undone.
Today’s psalm is about David’s confession of his spiralling, moral failures involving the Bathsheba incident. The Old Testament reading is Jonas’s preaching to Nineveh, the surprising repentance of the city, and God‘s changing his mind of its destruction. And today’s gospel, is about the failure of repentance by the people in Jesus time.
Confession and repentance. It is the steady drum beat we experience in Lent…. a sacred rhythm.
Our shepherds here at St. Augustine’s have slowly helped me understand the invitation of God. There’s an invitation in repentance. It’s like coming home. Turning towards God. The One whose property is always to have mercy.
We are in the season when the weather is slowly warming. Soon, I will start my day with a cup of coffee sitting on my back deck. As the sun peeks over our neighbours’ house, facing east, I position my chair so the beams of sunlight gradually land on my face. I feel its warmth, close my eyes and try to imagine the smile of God. The words of the mosaic blessing often float to the surface:
The Lord bless you and keep you and be gracious to you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and give you peace.
In the following months, as the sun slowly changes its location in the sky , I will continually have to shift my chair to receive my daily sun-smile ( kiss?). It will require a small, daily re-orientation to the sunlight.
Is that also what repentance looks like? A small daily turning to God? Letting his kind gaze fix on us, and over the years, he slowly shapes us a little more into his image?
It doesn’t sound very dramatic. There’s no sackcloth or ashes. Sometimes there’s tears? But God graciously pardons us, strengthens us in all goodness, and brings us to everlasting life in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Peace be with you as you continue to keep calm and lent on.
Dr. Owen Ukrainetz
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