The Marks of True Repentance

More often than not, blog posts are the basis of articles I write.  Some of the ideas that start on the blog get tweaked a bit and turned into something I submit for publication.  Occasionally, it works the other way around and I post something that has already been published or accepted for publication.  This is one of those instances.  I write regularly for a Christian newspaper called Good News Florida.  This past month my article was the cover story.  I reprint it here for you.

Performance enhancing drugs (PEDs) have once again been thrust into the spotlight. After a period of relative calm, the headlines have come with a flurry. In mid-January, Lance Armstrong finally admitted to doping his way to Tour de France dominance. In the lead up to the Superbowl, Ray Lewis of the Baltimore Ravens was accused of using deer antler spray, a banned substance, to aid his recovery from a torn tricep early in the season. Almost concurrently came a story involving Alex Rodriguez, Melky Cabrera, and a handful of other baseball players appearing on a list from an anti-aging clinic in association with distributing PEDs. Rodriguez promptly denied all involvement, but had previously admitted to using PEDs earlier in his career in a “tell-all” interview with Katie Couric. Three scandals in various states of exposure. When it rains it pours.

Repentance or Saving Face?

In the lead up to Lance Armstrong's interview with Oprah Winfrey, there was a syndicated radio show discussing the familiar refrain of "Is he truly sorry or is he just sorry he got caught?" Most callers thought it was the latter. The pattern of public repentance following exposure is all too familiar. It may be delayed as long as possible, but when excuses have been exhausted and the truth is unavoidable, the accused will come, tail between their legs, and apologize for their misdeeds.  In our skepticism, we discount the sincerity of any sorrow that follows unraveling scandal. If sincere, we speculate, it would have come earlier, before the truth was dragged into the light by dogged investigation.

The Marks of Genuine Repentance

But is it possible that exposure could be the gateway to true repentance, a needed wake-up call that stirs the accused from their moral stupor? Could not God use this to prompt true repentance? This demands discernment.  When someone's hand is caught in the cookie jar, how can we distinguish between repentance from the heart and a display merely intended to save face? For this we should look for at least three characteristics as marks of genuine repentance.

1. Transparency

When scandal is revealed it is almost always the tip of the iceberg that has been pushed above the surface. A dense mass remains hidden by the surrounding water. The worst may be exposed, but there is much that remains concealed. Merely addressing what has been uncovered is a warning sign of insincerity.

Being exposed is passive, something done to the individual. It is outside of their control.  They did not choose to reveal this. But with much remaining concealed, there is the opportunity to be active in the exposure, revealing information without it being dragged out. Scandal breaks when an individual is exposed by another. Repentance begins when the individual moves beyond the passive to the active and exposes oneself.

Sin loses its potency when exposed to the light. True repentance will reveal the bulk beneath the surface because the risk of shame is worth the hope of recovery. Admit the illness and energy isn’t wasted on projecting an image of health. Focus can be given fully to the cure.

2. Responsibility

In true repentance, there is a willingness to accept the consequences of one’s choices.  True, divine pardon is freely available through Christ. But while the stain of sin can be wiped away immediately, the consequences of sin linger on. Wounds are not healed in a moment. Trust is not restored overnight. After a great fall it is no easy task to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Sin creates a tangled mess. Unraveling the snarled ball will take time and effort.

In taking responsibility, true repentance does not resort to excuses or minimization. The gravity of one’s offense is acknowledged and the consequences are accepted. The slow path of restoration will be embraced and shortcuts will be avoided. Depending on the circumstances, these consequences may involve financial obligation, legal punishment, job loss, anger from victims, widespread distrust, family division, damaged reputation, and broken friendships, among others.  None of these are appealing, but they are deserved. True repentance will be reflected in a willingness to lie in the bed one has made. 

3. Accountability

While scandal is exposed in a moment, splashed across the front pages of tabloids and whispered about in hushed voice at the grocery store, true repentance is something that is evidenced over time. By the time scandal is exposed, it is generally deep in a destructive spiral. This did not happen overnight and it will not be overcome overnight. There are well-established patterns that must be broken and weaknesses that must be protected against. Momentary shame may be enough to correct behavior for a short time, but long-term change will come only as root issues are dealt with over time. Exposure will not eliminate vulnerability.

True repentance will entail pursuing full transformation. This may be aided by professional counseling or involvement in a support group. It will certainly demand involving others in the process to help protect against set back, overcome rough patches and celebrate progress. Restoration is a long and wearisome road. Progress is mingled with regress and discouragement can easily set in. On-going accountability with a trusted group will help maintain momentum long after the public has wearied of the story.

The sincerity of repentance will be evidenced over time.  Transparency, responsibility, and accountability will become obvious in the ensuing days, weeks, and months.  But for those who believe in a God of grace, there is always the hope that exposure may be the first step toward restoration.  While these three stories represent a thick slice of scandal pie in the realm of sports, there are plenty of other slices to be served.  There will be more scandals exposed, more tearful news conferences, and more orchestrated confessions, in sports, in politics, in media, in ministry, and even in personal life with friends and family.  Being able to discern true repentance will have recurring relevance, even for those with no interest in sports. 

By the way, my wife began a blog this last week entitled "A Healthy Wife."  It is written to support women in their relationships with their husbands.  She has a message worth sharing.  She communicates it well.  I commend it to you.

All Things New

A new year offers a fresh start, an opportunity for reflection and anticipation. Resolutions are made as to how things will be different this time through the calendric rotation, from January to December. Vices will be conquered and goals will be met in this new bundle of 365 days.

Familiar and Unfamiliar

A new year is unmistakably familiar. From the cooling of winter, to the blooming of spring, to the color of summer, to the bounty of fall, each season has its own recognizable character, a pattern that holds year after year. Birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays will crop up with expected regularity. Car inspections, health club memberships, and magazine subscriptions will all invite renewal. Even now, tax season is visible on the horizon, a hazy outline visible through the fog of holiday bills. The filing deadline will arrive with stubborn regularity in mid April. Winter, spring, summer, and fall each proceed in orderly fashion as a new year unfolds. We’ve been through this all before. 

And yet, it is new – familiar, but not the same. This year will be different from last, as each year is. These 12 months will unfold a unique blend of opportunities and experiences never before encountered. February will predictably follow January, and splatter me with unpredictable variables. Like a coil, each year is another loop arcing around a familiar course at an unfamiliar level. 

The Thread of Renewal

The thread of renewal has been knit into our experience of time, whether measured by the clock and its recurring seconds, minutes, and hours, or the calendar, with its recurring days, weeks, and months. This same thread reaches beyond this one swatch of time and is woven throughout the tapestry. We see the gleam of rebirth and regeneration in countless cycles – weather cycles, anatomical cycles, life cycles, agricultural cycles, astronomical cycles, migration cycles, tidal cycles, and on the list goes. This stitching is part of the distinctiveness of God’s quilted creation. In each case, it is this same balance of familiarity and novelty. It is a well-known pattern that unfolds with unexpected details.

A Reminder of Fallenness

These cycles remind us of fallenness. All is not right. The book of Hebrews makes the case that same sacrifices repeated year after year were a reflection of the inadequacy of those sacrifices to purify (Hebrews 10:1-4). They were a reminder of sin, a string around the finger recalling the brokenness of this world. They couldn’t fix the problem, but they could keep it in the Israelite’s field of vision.

Jesus sacrifice completed the cycle.  “When this priest had offered for all time one sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God” (Hebrews 10:10, NIV). The cycle of sacrifices was complete. Even so, the fallenness is not fully resolved. “Since that time he waits for his enemies to be made his footstool” (Hebrews 10:13, NIV).

Sin has infiltrated more than just our hearts. It has infected our world. This is a creation groaning for redemption, heavy laden with the burden of corruption, held in bondage to decay (Romans 8:20-22). A new January is a reminder that the same fallenness that tarnished last January is still present. The world is still fallen. This new year will have it’s share of natural disasters and human corruption, as every year does. We ache for final resolution when a new age will entail more than just a new wall calendar. 

An Opportunity for Advancement

But these cycles are an opportunity for advancement, a reminder that God does not lock us into our failures. Brokenness may infiltrate the cycle, but so does renewal. When Scripture speaks of newness, it is in settings of hope for transformation. We take off the corrupted old self and put on the new self with a renewed attitude (Ephesians 4:22-24, Colossians 3:9-10). Because of the resurrection, we may live a new life (Romans 6:4) for we are new creations (2 Corinthians 5:18). We are not resigned to failure. We are encouraged that progress can be made. Each new year is an occasion to start again. And these opportunities are not stranded 365 days apart. Each new month, each new week, each new day, each new hour, each new moment is another opportunity for renewal. God invites us to begin again.

This new year is an opportunity for renewal within brokenness. In Christ, the new creation begins on a micro level.  He is changing the world by changing me. In this there is hope. Failure can be righted. Addictions can be overcome. Broken relationship can be mended. Growth can be nurtured. Healing can be administered. Sin can be forgiven.  Emptiness can be filled. Silence can be broken. Fragility can be strengthened. Barrenness can be impregnated. Shallowness can be excavated. The God of renewal can be exalted anew as the calendar turns a new page.

Losing And Still Winning

On the heals of my second place finish in the Adirondack marathon relay, I decided to run one more race this season – the Empire State half marathon. The unreasonable entry fees keep me from racing more often than I do, but having spent three months building up my conditioning, it made sense to capitalize on that with one more race.   Based on last year’s results I knew my goal time would put me right in the mix for an award in my age group.  My hopes were high.

The race was this past weekend.  I ran well, right on my goal pace throughout, and finished in 1:32:08, good enough for 41st overall in a field of about 1350.  I was anxious to see how that would stack up against the other 40-45 year olds.  Results were printed out and taped to the side of a trailer where a crowd gathered.  I wriggled my way to the front and found my listing.  The results were in.  I placed fourth in my age group.  Awards for the top three.  And I was fourth. 

All the satisfaction of my individual performance withered in the light of the posted race results that left me just shy of the podium.  My time was good.  But I was just another also-ran.  I got a finishers medal – same as Will Artley who finished 1349th overall and took two and a half times as long to cover the 13.1 miles.

The next day I interviewed for a new position at work, a district manager.  I wrote about the experience in my last post, comparing it to a coin toss.  From my vantage point it was a wholly uncertain outcome.  From God’s perspective, it was a settled physics formula.  He knew the outcome the moment he tossed the coin.  He controlled all the variables that determined whether the coin would land heads or tails. 

Since then the coin, flipping end-over-end, has come to rest.  All that spinning finished.  All that uncertainty settled.  I had called it heads as it was whirled through the air throbbing with vigor.  Now I gaze at a coin still as night, tales side up.  I did not get the job.  There was one candidate who beat me out based on experience.  I was runner-up, small consolation in a contest with only one prize.

Runner-up may be harder to stomach than back of the pack.  Close enough to taste victory, only to walk away with a mouth full of sand.  It’s a gritty chew that goes down hard.  Hope runs high and disappointment runs deep. The near miss has all the drama of victory and all the angst of defeat. It is being in the running and then losing on the final kick. But failure measured in inches is as much failure as that measured in yards.  There is little comfort is being the best of the losers.

I didn’t stay for the awards ceremony after the race.  Why bother?  I wouldn’t get anything for fourth place.  Later that day I went on the website to check out the results a bit more closely.  The results opened to a page entitled “HalfMarathon – Awards and Age Group Listing.”  I scrolled down to my age group and found my name listed in third place.  Third place?  But I was fourth.

It turns out that they also had an overall masters award for those forty and older.  The first place finisher in my age group was the overall masters winner.  Having won the masters, he was not included in the age group awards.  Everyone moved up a spot. I moved into third.  Knocked out of the awards only to discover a loophole allowing me to slide into third.  I lost; and yet I won.  This seems a formula that God employs frequently.

When he called to tell me the decision, the director of Human Resources said that he had bad news and good news.  The bad news was that I didn’t get the job.  The good news was that they recognized the need to create a career path to allow me to move forward.  They have decided to develop a new position for me – a regional supervisor.  As they build a third Syracuse location and expand the original Syracuse location to include full food service, they would like me to move out of a single store and begin to supervise six profit centers for Syracuse – three stores and three food service departments.  

I lost, and yet I won.  Missing out on the District Manager position hurts, but this regional supervisor may be better suited to me – less travel and more concentrated focus on three locations.  This is my strength.  I trained all the managers in the Syracuse market.  I am training two more now.  These are established relationships of trust and respect, easily leveraged for me to act as supervisor.  I run an increasingly profitable store, top line and bottom line and feel confident that this is reproducible.  I know our food service program well, from front line production to back house administrative work.  Even now I am helping a new food service supervisor in our store get his legs under him.  This seems a good fit, from every angle. 

It will be some time before the pieces fall into place, probably coinciding with the building of the new location in the next year or so.  But I am hopeful.  In losing the coin toss, I may still win the game.  The seeds of hope have been planted in the rich compost of disappointment.  On close inspection, I see the stem just breaking through the soil.

Successful Failure Pt. 5 - Setting a Standard

That's me on the podium, second from the left

I ran the Adirondack Marathon Relay recently.  I was the second leg of a two man relay team.  In a post about failure, I suppose it is unbecoming to mention that we placed second in the relay.  My legs recovered after a couple of days, but my ego is still a bit swollen.

But this post isn’t about my race.  In addition to the marathon and marathon relay, there was also a half marathon, which started at the relay exchange, about half way around Schroon Lake.  The half marathon began an hour after the marathon and I knew my partner would take a little over an hour and a half to reach the exchange.  So I was able to watch the start of the half marathon before warming up.

In the throng at the start line, I noticed an older man.  In many ways he looked like all the other runners - dressed in exercise pants with race bib pinned to the front of his tech shirt.  But while other runners fiddled with their ipods at the start, he gripped his walker.  The gun went off and the sound of pounding feet was joined by the scrape of a shuffling walker.  The old man’s hunched frame bore weight down on the metal bars as he crept across the start and onto the course.  He settled into last place.

For half an hour I bottled up my adrenalin as I awaited my relay partner.  He arrived, the exchange was made, and I was off, chasing down the pack of half marathoners who had a nearly thirty five minute head start.  I knew I would catch some of them over the ensuing 13 miles, but figured it would take a few miles to close the gap.  About a mile in, I reached the trailing half marathoner much sooner than I expected.  It was the shuffling old man.  There were many others I passed subsequently, nondescript and easily forgotten.  Not the man with the walker.  He stood out from the rest.

As I arrived in town there were crowds cheering, a drum band playing, a digital time clock  ticking, and an announcer naming incoming runners.  Medals were hung around the necks of finishers as they walked the shoot.  Warming blankets were available. The massage tent was crowded.  The refreshment tent was abounding.  The runners were giddy. And the old man, I suspect, was slowly trudging along somewhere near mile three. 

It had taken him nearly 45 minutes to walk the first mile.  Multiply that out over 13 miles and you realize that it would take him almost ten hours to reach the finish line.  Having started at 10 in the morning, he would reach the terminus at 8 in the evening, long after the race was over.  According to the information packet I had received, the course was officially open until 3:00 pm.  After that, closed street would reopen, officers controlling traffic would head home, and the finish line reverie would wind down.  Hours later, in dim light he would enter the village of Schroon Lake and shuffle down empty streets to the vacant park that had served as the post-race party site earlier in the day. 

I don’t know if he finished.  He gets no mention in the official race results.  All the timing mats were long gone by the time he would have finished.  I like to think he did.  A man with enough resolve to enter a half marathon though dependant on a walker seems like someone who would finish no matter how long it took.  Supposing he did, he most certainly was in last place.

Last place sounds like failure.  But who, watching this man hobble his way through thirteen miles, would ever call his race a letdown?  His finish may have been the most inspirational of all the participants, even if few were there to witness it.  He didn’t run to win.  He ran to finish.  And for him to finish was a greater display of courage and commitment than the hundreds who finished before him.   Completing a half marathon is an accomplishment that even fully mobile people find difficult.  When is the last time you traveled thirteen miles by foot?  You could argue that the failure of last place was a greater success then my second place finish. 

So this, my last post on failure.  We have considered how failure can be our ally (Part 1).  It allows us to develop persistence (Part 2), make progress (Part 3), and establish credibility (Part 4).  I close with this thought – success and failure are contingent on a standard.  To succeed is to reach or surpass that standard.  To fail is to fall short of that mark.  Sometimes, the issue isn’t with the execution, it’s with the aspiration.  We aim for the wrong things.  We embrace the wrong standard.  It may be that we expect too much of ourselves…or too little.  Or maybe I have accepted someone else’s standard for me, allowing them to define the measurement of my success.

To have finished a half marathon in 10 hours would have been a horrible failure for me, but for this old man, it would be a raging success.  Like the woman who puts two small copper coins into the temple treasury who Jesus says gave more than all the rest.  Others gave out of their wealth, she gave out of her poverty and put in all she had to live on (Luke 21:1-4).  Sometimes success for one person would be failure for another. 

As a writer who believes in absolute truth, I bristle at the subjectivity of those last two paragraphs.  They feel too wily nilly; untethered to anything absolute.  It comes with a caveat.  In the realm of morality, there is an absolute standard that has been set, a standard that is encapsulated in the biblical theme of holiness.  That would be a whole other post. 

But here, as I think about success and failure, I have in mind the many instances when the standard is not set out as a black and white moral absolute.  These are goals, aspirations that we strive for.  To finish a half marathon in under two hours or in under ten hours, either one may be appropriate.  Goals must be personally relevant, set high enough to make you stretch and low enough to be attainable.  That will be different for me and you.  Failure may be an opportunity to reevaluate the goal to determine if you are aiming at the right thing. 

I race again in a week and a half at the Empire State Half Marathon.  I’m shooting for 1:32 , which is a respectable pace by any standard.  But it’s attainable, for me at least.  I don’t race with a walker.   

Successful Failure Pt.4 - Credibility

After introducing this series with the idea of failure as an ally (Part 1), I went on to write that failure allows us to develop persistence (Part 2) and make progress (Part 3). Here I offer a third way that failure can be to our advantage.

Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy. Proverbs 28:13

Sometimes I get caught with my hand in the cookie jar.  I am pinned down with no escape.  My guilt is evident.  I cry “Uncle.”  But more often, my failure is not so obvious.  There is an opening, whether a crack or a gaping hole, for me to escape the charge.  Fingers, after all, were made for pointing.  I can shift the blame, make excuses, hide the evidence, redefine my intention, deny my role.  These, the currency of avoiding responsibility.  My wallet is full of them.

And yet, I know how unappealing I find this in others.  It is hard to trust those who always take credit and never accept blame.  When appearance is paramount, truth and honesty are eclipsed.  When given an excuse, I usually accept it graciously.  But seeds of doubt are planted.  The more excuses offered, the less plausible they appear.  I wonder if they realize that in saving face, they are losing credibility.

I’m a retail manager at Delta Sonic, a carwash / detail shop / gas station/ convenience store /brick oven pizza / Tim Hortons / deli.  I oversee the store and foodservice.  A chunk of my job involves interacting with customers, particularly those that are dissatisfied.  Sometimes I botch this. 

Recently, we were running a special where if you spent $12 on our foodservice, you would receive a $5 gift certificate for wash or detail services.  It was well promoted, displayed on every table menu and poster sized clip signs on the building exterior. 

Then we ran out of gift certificates.  I didn’t realize until one of my cashiers asked if we had any more.  I checked the safe, which is on a three minute time lock, and told my cashier that we had run out.  By this time, the customer had already picked up their food and sat down at a table to eat.  Knowing how prominently we were advertising a promotion that we could not fulfill, I collected all the table menus, removed all other advertising, and sent an e-mail requesting more gift certificates.  I did nothing for the customer.  When she returned to the counter to ask about the gift card, my cashier explained that we had run out.  Again, I did nothing for the customers.  She didn’t seem visibly upset, but I did not take any initiative to make things right. 

Later that day, she sent a blistering e-mail to our customer service department about my indifference to her, accusing me of being more concerned about “scurrying around to confiscate all evidence of the promotion.”  Ouch.  Painful - not only in the forcefulness, but in the truthfulness.  She was right.

I know the contents of the e-mail because my district manager wanted an explanation.  I had none. I had delivered poor customer service, for which there was no excuse.  I could have easily offered her free wash passes or a handwritten $5 gift certificate.  I didn’t.  And no matter how good the food, the customer left with a bad taste in their mouth.  I made a mistake, which is what I told my district manager.   I took responsibility for my failure, resisting the urge to offer any excuse.  This was a blow to my pride, but a boost to my credibility. 

About a month later, I was the subject of another e-mail, this time related to a customer who had trouble pumping her gas.  When she spoke with me about it, I asked if she was able to pump her gas in the end.  She said she was, but thought someone should know that the pump was not acting properly.  I told her I would have someone check it out.  She appeared satisfied when she left.  End of story.  Except that she sent a scathing e-mail to our customer service department, accusing me cheating her out of gas.  She is convinced that the pump was charging her when no gas was going through the line.  This was not what I understood her complaint to be.

My district manager wanted an explanation.  I told him that what she was communicating in the e-mail was not what she communicated with me in the store.  Even in hindsight I felt like I had handled it well.  Hearing two sides, my district manager accepted my account.  He took me at my word.  I suspect that is, in part, because I have shown a willingness to take responsibility when I am wrong.  I had built of reputation of standing in the truth rather than leaning on excuses. 

After telling the disciples not resort to oaths to establish their credibility, Jesus says, “Simply let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No.”  (Matthew 5:37).  Our credibility should be so well established that we need not resort to emphatic promises of truthfulness.  When the truth of our pronouncements must be verified by calling God as witness (“I swear to God”) or inviting personal harm for deceit (“cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye”) then we are implicitly acknowledging our dishonesty.  A monosyllabic “Yes” or “No” should be adequate. 

Which brings me back to successful failure.  Failure is a testing ground for truth, an opportunity to establish my credibility.  Anyone can be honest in the light of success.  Candor comes easy when the accolades flow.  But in the shadows of failure, honestly is an act of courage.  Chastisement and blame are bitter pills to swallow.  To take that medicine may provide the opportunity to fix the failure, but not always.  What is certain is that taking that medicine will build your trustworthiness.  If I admit it when I am wrong, then I am believable when I am right.  And if I had to chose, I’d rather be known for my unwavering credibility than for my unblemished competence.