As we settle into Advent, Rev. Chris Lane asks us to consider this a time of repentance, a chance to make a change, clearing space for the new thing God is doing again this Christmas.
REV. CHRIS LANE
Retired Pastor, Michigan Conference
Here we are in the second week of Advent, caught off guard yet again with Matthew’s Gospel serving up John the Baptizer’s caustic call to repentance and baptism: “Change your hearts and lives! Here comes the kingdom of heaven!” (Matthew 3:2, CEB). John would then baptize those who repented.
Repentance may not be our favorite Advent word, but it is part of the spiritual life. It is a good word, an indispensable word. It has everything to do with clearing space and making ready, letting go of what does not serve us, so that we can see the new thing God is doing.
For starters, let’s dispose of our mind’s hackneyed cartoon image of a sign-wielding, poorly dressed, loud-mouthed preacher standing on the street corner, shouting us down to repent and sputtering, “The end is near!” But wait, isn’t that how John the Baptizer crashes into our Advent party?
I must say that over time, I’ve come to appreciate John’s in-your-face pre-Christmas challenge: to walk a new way, wake up from our spiritual slumber, and slough off the self-centered chaff that weighs us down. All this so that we can align what we’re hearing with what we’re doing, and only then can we see the new thing God is doing in the Christmas drama. Indeed, the reign of God is at hand, again!
To get there, we repent. We declare ourselves open to change, to grow, to walk a new way, sometimes to correct a wrong. So, when have I ever repented or changed direction? There has certainly been no shortage of opportunity or need for me to change a habit, a bias, an attitude. But in this moment, I am remembering a bad day when I was in the eighth grade.
That year, President Lyndon B. Johnson introduced the Presidential Fitness Test, requiring all public schools to test students in a variety of physical challenges, including running. There were prizes to be handed out to the winners. And I wanted to win the running competition, as that would be prize enough.
On the day of the run, I somehow made it across the finish line first, but the coach had forgotten to set his stopwatch. The race would not count. I remember being so angry that I muttered, louder than I thought, “That was stupid that Coach forgot to set his watch. What a ditz!” My friends snickered, but Coach did not. He had heard my insult of disrespect. I was sent off the field while others competed and won prizes, and I was given plenty of time in an empty classroom to think about my childish outburst toward my teacher.
I went home, telling neither my parents nor anyone what had happened. But I knew I had messed up. I knew this was not what I’d been taught in confirmation class the week before. I knew I had, in that moment, lost touch with my better self, not to mention the respect of some of my friends. In short, I knew I needed to repent, to change something, to make it right.
The next morning, I was waiting outside the coach’s classroom when he arrived at school. With the awkwardness of a 12-year-old, I told the coach I was sorry for my words on the field that day, that I was prepared to say that to the class, and that I would accept whatever consequences.
The coach listened, with a stern face, and told me he expected better from me as a student leader, but that he forgave me. He’d even allow me to be clocked while running the racecourse alone later that week. I recall walking out of that classroom, lighter and more alive somehow, and on the edge of entering a new “grown-up” space of integrity where one puts away childish things.
I did not have the language of faith then to name this brush with repentance. But I knew in that moment, I’d been given a coming-of-age nudge toward something real and holy that I am remembering even now, a half-century later.
I wonder — is this what it was like for those gathering at the banks of the Jordan River awaiting baptism from that camel-hair-clad John the Baptizer? Perhaps. But John, the forerunner to Jesus, wasn’t just interested in calling out folks’ private morality or in doing the right thing as individuals. More than that, he was calling out the behavior of systems and groups of people.
The powerful religious leaders of his day often turned a blind eye to the unjust conditions faced by the poor around them, deciding who’s out and who’s in, setting themselves apart in their ivory towers and self-righteous snobbery. Indeed, groups and systems can and do need to repent of unjust practices, just as individuals do. “Reformed and continually reforming” is a useful phrase that emerged from the Protestant Reformation centuries ago. It means we are never done growing and being formed into God’s image. I think John the Baptizer would like that phrase.
This year, as we expend so much energy buying gifts, attending feasts and parties, writing cards, and donating to charities, let us carve out time to sit in the dark, light a candle, and imagine John the Baptizer sitting quietly next to us in his camel-hair coat. And in that private moment, dare to tell him of one small change in your behavior you are willing to make, clearing space in yourself, so that you can make room for the new thing God is doing again this Christmas.
Last Updated on December 5, 2025