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Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 29, 2025

8 Signs of True Repentance




October 4, 2019 | Jennifer Greenberg

“I’m sorry,” I remember my dad saying. “I’m sorry, and I love you.”
He didn’t say what he was sorry for. He didn’t mention the hand-shaped bruises aching up and down my small 11-year-old body. He didn’t seem to understand how afraid and devastated I’d been. But that was the first time I’d ever heard my dad say sorry, and the relief it brought felt like rain after a drought.
In the back of my mind, a little voice said, Don’t trust this. He’s only apologizing because Mom threatened to tell Pastor Jim if he didn’t. I shoved that voice down. I smothered my doubts. I had prayed for so long that Dad would change. I had tried to be a good daughter who reminded him of Jesus.
His apology, however vague, was hope and a sign that God was working. Or was it?
Cruelty of False Repentance
Around a decade would pass before I’d hear my dad apologize again. Initially, I didn’t assume sincerity. By that time, I’d already blown the whistle. I’d told our pastor everything. Dad was under church discipline. His marriage was imploding. He had nothing to gain by lying, did he?
And then something strange happened. As I began sharing my story with pastors, family, and friends, my dad would admit and apologize for things he’d done, but then weeks or even days later, claim he didn’t remember any of it. He’d say he didn’t recall beating me, throwing me down on the stairs, or even his recent apologies for those events. He didn’t remember his sexual comments, throwing a knife at me, or threatening to shoot me. He’d apologize, then retract. Remember, then claim to forget. Back and forth this went for maybe a year, until I felt like I was losing my mind.
“I don’t know what to think,” I told him over the phone one day. Huddled on the kitchen floor, I spoke between sobs. “I can believe either you’re crazy and didn’t know what you were doing, or you’re evil and you understood completely.”
“I’m not crazy,” he replied calmly. “You’re just going to have to accept that I’m evil.”

Analyzing Repentance
I’ve had a lot of experience dealing with unrepentant people: multiple abusers spanning two decades of child abuse, domestic violence, and sexual abuse. All of this was reinforced and compounded by psychological abuse, which continued well into my 30s. Because of my background, I’ve accrued some practical wisdom. Because of my faith, I’ve turned to the Bible for guidance when distinguishing real from fake repentance.
There are stubborn sinners who refuse to apologize, liars who claim to be sorry when they’re not, and hypocrites who may truly believe they’re sorry yet lack sympathy or understanding of biblical repentance. So what are the attributes of genuine repentance? Here are eight signs I’ve gleaned, from life and from God’s Word.

1. A Repentant Person Is Appalled by Sin
Horrified by what they’ve done, they’ll humble themselves, grieve the pain they’ve caused, and be cut to the heart in their conviction. As the prophet mourned in Isaiah 6:5, “Woe to me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.”

2. They Make Amends
In Luke 19:1–10, we read the story of Zacchaeus and the generosity he demonstrated as part of his repentance. A tax collector, thief, and oppressor of God’s people, Zacchaeus made amends: “Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor. And if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount” (v. 8). And Jesus confirmed the authenticity of Zacchaeus’s repentance: “Today salvation has come to this house” (v. 9).

3. They Accept Consequences
A genuinely repentant person will accept consequences. These may include losing the trust of others, relinquishing a position of authority, or submitting to worldly authorities such as law enforcement. When the thief on the cross repented, he said to his companion, “Do you not fear God? . . . We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve” (Luke 23:40–41). And Jesus commended his repentance by assuring him of his salvation: “Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43).

4. They Don’t Expect or Demand Forgiveness
Often I’ve been told by my abuser, “If you don’t forgive me, God won’t forgive you.” But this threatening posture indicates insincere repentance. It’s unloving, manipulative, and implies the offender doesn’t accept or comprehend the gravity of what they’ve done. When Jacob approached Esau and repented, he didn’t expect mercy, let alone compassion. In Genesis 32, we read he felt “great fear” and “distress” (v. 7). He anticipated an attack (v. 11) and considered himself unworthy of kindness (v. 10). In fact, so certain was Jacob of retribution that he separated his wives, children, and servants from him, lest Esau’s anger fall on them too.

5. They Feel the Depth of the Pain They’ve Caused
A repentant person won’t try to minimize, downplay, or excuse what they’ve done. They won’t point to all their good works as if those actions somehow outweigh or cancel out the bad. They’ll view even their “righteous acts” as “filthy rags” (Isa. 64:6). They won’t shame the offended party for being hurt or angry. They won’t blame their victims or other people for making them sin. Rather, they’ll take responsibility, acknowledge the damage they’ve done, and express remorse.

6. They Change Their Behavior
A truly repentant person will realize they need God to sanctify their heart. They’ll proactively work to change their behavior and take steps to avoid sin and temptation. That may mean seeing a counselor, going to rehab, or asking friends, pastors, or law enforcement to give them oversight and hold them accountable. Consider the stark contrast between the church persecutor Saul before salvation and after. Acts 9 tells us that even though some Christians were understandably hesitant to trust him, his character had already altered dramatically.

7. They Grant Space to Heal
The fruit of the Spirit includes patience, kindness, grace, and self-control (Gal. 5:22–23). A truly repentant person will demonstrate these consistently. They won’t feel entitled to trust or acceptance; rather, they’ll be humble, unassuming, and willing to sacrifice their own wants and needs for the benefit of the injured party. They won’t pressure us to hurry up and “get over it” or “move on.” Rather, they’ll understand our distrust, acknowledge our grief, and honor the boundaries we’ve requested.
As an abuser, they loved their sin more than they loved you. As a repentant sinner, they should love you more than their sin and pride.
As an abuser, they loved their sin more than they loved you. As a repentant sinner, they should love you more than their sin and pride.

8. They’re Awestruck by Forgiveness
If a person feels entitled to forgiveness, they don’t value forgiveness. When Jacob received Esau’s forgiveness, he was so astounded he wept: “To see your face is like seeing the face of God, for you have received me favorably” (Gen. 30:10). Jacob realized that forgiveness is divine miracle, a picture of the Messiah, and a sign of the Lord’s mercy. Though Jacob and Esau hadn’t spoken for 40 years, Jacob knew God had enabled Esau, by grace, to forgive him.
Repentance and Forgiveness Are from God
When these eight signs of repentance are authentically present, we are blessed. Our offender has forsaken evil, and the God of peace is glorified. But what do we do when these signs are not present? What do we do when someone lies about being sorry to avoid consequences, or uses our goodwill as an opportunity to hurt us again?
For more than three decades, I begged God to call my abusive dad to repentance. Instead, like Pharaoh, his heart only hardened. His pretenses at change turned out to be a strategy he used to enable his wickedness. My own love and trust were weaponized to betray me.
Eventually, I had to accept that my dad didn’t want to get better. And no matter how much I loved him and wanted him to repent, change, be a good dad, love me, and love Jesus, salvation is God’s work, and I couldn’t fix my dad. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do for a person is to not let them hurt us any longer.


Jennifer Greenberg is an author, recording artist, and church pianist. She belongs to The Haven OPC in Long Island, New York. She recently published her debut book, Not Forsaken: A Story of Life After Abuse: How Faith Brought One Woman From Victim to Survivor (The Good Book Co., 2019). Her writings combine experience with the gospel of hope to help victims, survivors, and those who walk alongside them. Jennifer is married to her best friend, Jason, and they have three daughters: Elowyn, Leianor, and Gwynevere. You can follow her on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, and her website.


Monday, October 29, 2018

By the Roots

James MacDonald

Monday, October 29, 2018

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing (Matthew 23:37, ESV)!
I really hate dandelions. The harder you try to get rid of them, the more they hang around. It doesn’t really matter what you spray or what kind of program you get on, they’re coming up anyway. There’s another one—here, there, everywhere. That’s just the way dandelions grow. They spring up all over the place.
And sin, I’m sad to say, is a lot the same. Contrary to popular opinion, the longer you live and the more time you spend in self-examination, that’s how certain you can be of spotting a new one sprouting up where you thought you’d already treated for it.
“THE LORD WANTS YOU FREE, ONCE AND FOR ALL, FROM THE SIN THAT HAS ONLY MADE YOU RESTLESS AND MISERABLE FOR SO LONG.”
But as discouraging as it can sometimes be to discover even more things in your life that grieve the Lord, this dandelion count is to be expected. We were wrong to think we’d become more content with ourselves the longer we knew Jesus, that we could spend more time sitting back, admiring our green fields of self-righteousness. It’s good, in fact, to become more acutely aware of how badly we need His grace. And to find He is not there scolding us, offended by us, but rather is eager to work with us so we don’t stubbornly resist His intentions to bless us, encourage us, and give us life.
“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem,” Jesus cried out, looking over a rebellious city that God had previously destroyed, then rebuilt, and would destroy again. But notice His heart. It wasn’t harsh. He wasn’t flying off the handle. He was wanting them to come to Him, out of the pain and heartache their sins had cost them, and into His loving embrace. He wanted them free, once and for all, from those things that had only made them restless and miserable for so long.
“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem”—hear Him say it again—“how often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”
Here, then, is the encouragement you can take from those patches of dandelions you keep noticing. Are they areas where you’re leaning on a crutch of some kind, rather than leaning foremost on Jesus? Are they matters of job-related integrity? Are they images of other faces appearing at the corners of marital intimacy? Are they pockets of financial fear, where you’re not sure you can trust His Word and the faithfulness of His provision? Are they places where you’re not prioritizing your family, or not being loving and forgiving?
Nobody wants to keep seeing these blemishes in their lives. But they are less of a cause for condemnation and more of a reminder of how much you need Jesus. So, unlike the generation of His day, who wouldn’t gather up close to Him, who wouldn’t accept His relief, use these sightings to draw nearer to His side. And He will pluck those weeds for you, one at a time.
The field won’t ever be totally rid of them. But you will love Him increasingly, as you allow His uprooting in your life.
Journal
  • What are some of the weeds you’ve noticed lately, that you hadn’t recognized before?
  • Why does it make sense that our sanctification would be a lifelong endeavor?


PrayLord, I admit to sometimes becoming discouraged. I’d hoped I wouldn’t still be finding so much that needs work in my heart. But thank You for not being surprised at my continual need for You. And thank You for looking on me with grace and compassion, eager to do for me what I can’t do for myself. I yield to You today. I come up close to Your side. In the strength of Your arms, You give me hope in my discouragement. I pray this in the life-giving name of Jesus, amen.

Monday, March 19, 2018

by James MacDonald





Holy, Holy, Holy



And one called to another and said: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory” (Isaiah 6:3, ESV)!

On God’s Top Ten list, the very first rule, the commandment that earns the #1 spot, states who He is. “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:2–3).

The Church has lost this high and exalted view of God. We’ve grown so cozy with God that we forget who He really is. We have embraced the comfort of His nearness and ignored His holiness. We have emphasized the security of His love at the expense of His transcendence. God is not “the man upstairs.” He’s not a mild, old codger with a white beard. God dwells in unapproachable light. The Bible teaches that no one can see God and live. He is high and lifted up. He is ineffable glory.

We need a right view of God. One of the clearest pictures in all of Scripture is found in Isaiah 6. God gave Isaiah a glimpse, just a glimpse, of who He is, and the prophet fell flat on his face. That singular experience marked Isaiah’s whole life, and his vision is one we desperately need today.

Do you want to know what God is really like? God is infinite holiness—immeasurable, unalterable, unfathomable holiness. Isaiah wrote, “I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up” (Isaiah 6:1). Seated. Not pacing back and forth. Not wringing His hands. Not struggling or searching. He was seated, settled, secure, certain. Why? Because He is in absolute control.

And standing above the seated God are the seraphim who serve Him. Picture two lines of angels, one on either side of the King, calling back and forth in an unceasing, antiphonal chorus. Think of all the words they could say about God. They could call out, “Merciful, merciful, merciful God!” or “Loving, loving, loving God!” But the words God chose to be spoken about Him, in His presence, for all time, are of His holiness. “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!” Through countless eons of time and even at this exact moment, the angels are calling out God’s holiness.

When the Hebrew people want to emphasize a word, they repeat it. If someone fell into a pit, that would be one thing, but if it were a deep pit, they would call it a “pit pit.” Nowhere else in all of Scripture is an attribute repeated three times. Only this and only of God: He is “holy, holy, holy.”

And the smoke rose quickly to veil Isaiah’s vision lest he be consumed in an instant by the moral worthiness, by the utter terror, by the majestic purity and power, by the unsearchable, unspeakable, infinite holiness of the triune God.

For when we grasp who God is, as the first commandment tells us to do, we see something else clearly too: our sinfulness. God’s infinite holiness casts our dirty sinfulness into stark relief. You cannot gaze upon the holiness of God without being overcome. Isaiah was broken by this. “Woe is me!” he cried. “For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts” (6:5)! The phrase means literally, “I’m dead. Done for. Silenced. Bankrupt. Ruined.” Before the holiness of Almighty God, we realize how unclean we are.

How tragic if the story ended there. But once Isaiah saw God for who He really is, the poor prophet was primed for mercy. “Then,” begins verse 6, a little transition word full of hope. Then one of the seraphim flew to Isaiah, lifted a burning coal to his lips, and purged him of sin. We are only prepared to receive and comprehend the grace of God when we have understood His infinite holiness and our filthy sinfulness. Any presentation of the gospel that leaves that out is incomplete. It’s the holiness of God that casts us upon His mercy. Only when we have a right view of the holy God do we begin to see clearly.


JOURNAL
Examine your own theology (your thoughts about God). In what ways do you treat God too casually? How does Isaiah’s vision change your view of God?
In your own words, what’s the connection between seeing God’s holiness and being primed to receive His mercy? 


PRAY
Almighty God, You are holy, holy, holy. Forgive me for my casual attitude toward You. Forgive me for reveling in Your abundant grace and ignoring Your holiness. Help me, Lord, to see You rightly. You are the Lord, and You have no rivals. Just as You reign on the throne of heaven, would You also reign in my heart and life? And as I glimpse Your holiness, I see my own spiritual bankruptcy. Please purge my sin, through the mercy You offer through Your Son, Jesus, in whose name I pray, amen.








Monday, January 26, 2015

The Thing We Don't Do

Forgiving is the hardest thing you will ever do. That's why most people don't do it. We talk about it, cheer for it, preach on it, and are sure we've practiced it. But mostly the illusion of having forgiven is that the passage of time dulls memory. The ruse will come to light with hair-trigger vengeance when fresh offense hurls in to empty out the gunnysack of half-digested grievances.
I asked a few people if they'd ever forgiven anyone, and what it felt like. They gave me answers so pious I knew they'd never done it. I am at the present moment in the maw of temptation, and I can tell you there is nothing exalted about this feeling, this one-two punch to the gut that comes when you even contemplate forgiving, which is as far as I've come.
At first I decided I would forgive the person-and never speak to him again. This felt pretty good, but I saw the dissimulation in it at once. I alternately toyed with going to him to "tell him his fault" (Matthew 18:15), which is my biblical right, so there. I had the decree of rebuke written up in my head, a document of fastidious and plenary detail-all for his own good. A smarmy satisfaction accompanied the plan, so I nixed it. For now.
In C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce, a woman confronted by an angel about forgiving her husband says, "Well, I have forgiven him as a Christian." The phrase is meaningless. She then bulimically seethes for pages about his wrongdoing and her longsuffering.
Keeping one's mouth shut is commendable, and more than I have managed in the past. It will work as long as I don't go near a phone or e-mail. But I am reminded that "Absolom spoke to Amnon neither good nor bad" for two whole years after the rape of his sister Tamar, and it ate him alive till in the end he killed the man.
O my brothers, you cannot imagine the exquisite verbal retaliations I have hatched in the idle hours, each more perfect than the last: theologically impeccable, legalistically faultless, poisoned prose polished to a lethal point. Must I now relinquish these? Must I kill the little darlings? Are they not to see the light of day? Such a waste.
Forgiveness is a brutal mathematical transaction done with fully engaged faculties. It's my pain instead of yours. I eat the debt. I absorb the misery I wanted to dish out on you, and you go scot-free. Beware the forgiveness that is tendered soon after injury; be suspicious. Real forgiveness needs a time lag, for it is wrought in private agony before it ever comes to public amnesty. All true acts of courage are thus done in secret.
Pastor Tim Keller of Redeemer Church in Manhattan shares the following letter from a man who once had to forgive a woman:
"I forgave her and it took me a whole year and I had to forgive her in small sums over that whole twelve months. I paid those sums whenever I spoke to her and kept myself from rehashing the past. I paid them whenever I saw her with another man and refused self-pity and rehearsal inside for what she'd done to me. I paid them whenever I praised her to others when I really wanted to slice away at her reputation. Those were the payments but she never knew them. However, I never knew her payments, but I know she made them. I could tell."
And now the unthinkable: not only to forgive but seek the good. Nature abhors a vacuum and Jesus admits of no middle ground between hate and love. Pray for him.
When you were a child you thought like a child, that pain was something to flee. Now in the adulthood of faith, suck up your hundred denarii, because someone took your ten thousand talents upon Himself (Matthew 18), and like a lamb led to slaughter and a sheep before its shearers was silent (Isaiah 53:7). He did not retaliate but "continued entrusting Himself to Him who judges justly" (1 Peter 2:23). Be so awash in the ocean of His love, my soul, that the shortcomings of all human loves will, more and more, seem but a trifling thing.

Andrée Seu
Andrée is the author of three books: Won't Let You Go Unless You Bless MeNormal Kingdom Business, and We Shall Have Spring Again.