One Sinner Who Repents

“Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.” (Luke 15:7)

These words of Jesus have given me much hope throughout my life—especially in the early days of my re-version to the faith—but even now, when I am tempted to despair at my slow progress in goodness and virtue. In reading this passage again today, I realized why this passage gives me hope, for it struck me: this promise of Jesus isn't a one-time deal.

To live as a human being is to suffer from moral imperfection. We struggle with sin—and often. Despite our best efforts, we continue to intentionally and unintentionally wrong God and others by our harmful thoughts, words and deeds. This is the incurable human condition, for even “a righteous man falls seven times” (Proverbs 24:16). Sin is a lifetime struggle. But we are not hopeless, nor helpless. We have been given the unique, human capacity to improve ourself, even overcome our faults—in partnership with God’s grace. We have, in fact, both a duty and ability to face and condemn the ugliness within us. How beautiful it is to remember that that we can bring joy to heaven not just by our one-time conversion, but again and again, each time we make the effort to repent.

To be truly sorry, truly repentant, we must first be able to identify, admit, and take personal responsibility for our wrongs. Our heart must also be moved; we must come to a point of contrition—that sorrow and regret for our mistakes—balanced by a trust in God’s unfailing mercy. Our soul must echo this plea of David, having repented of adultery with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah:

“Have mercy on me, O God, according to thy steadfast love;
    according to thy abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
    and cleanse me from my sin!

For I know my transgressions,
    and my sin is ever before me.
Against thee, thee only, have I sinned,
    and done that which is evil in thy sight,
so that thou art justified in thy sentence
    and blameless in thy judgment.
Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,
    and in sin did my mother conceive me.

Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward being;
    therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
    wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Fill me with joy and gladness;
    let the bones which thou hast broken rejoice.
Hide thy face from my sins,
    and blot out all my iniquities.

Create in me a clean heart, O God,
    and put a new and right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from thy presence,
    and take not thy holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of thy salvation,
    and uphold me with a willing spirit.

Then I will teach transgressors thy ways,
    and sinners will return to thee.
Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God,
    thou God of my salvation,
    and my tongue will sing aloud of thy deliverance.

O Lord, open thou my lips,
    and my mouth shall show forth thy praise.
For thou hast no delight in sacrifice;
    were I to give a burnt offering, thou wouldst not be pleased.
The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit;
    a broken and contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.” (Psalm 51)

Jesus knew how our sin would weigh on us, and how much we crave His forgiveness—even if we, ourselves, could not consciously recognize it. He knew we would need a regular, spiritual practice of repentance. And so, after His death, He appeared to the disciples—those first priests—in the Upper Room. His first words to them bestowed their authority to confer His forgiveness to sinners through the power of the Holy Spirit, and sent them out on this very mission:

“Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I send you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” (John 20:21-23)

Today, priests of the Church still honor this command of Jesus, offering the Sacrament of Confession to impart His forgiveness of sins by the power of the Holy Spirit. It is, I think, a rare and precious jewel of the Catholic faith, to have this nudge and ability to practice, regularly, the art of repentance in the way both Jesus and the Bible have laid out: “Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man has great power in its effects” (James 5:16). A good Confession requires radical self-honesty and a humility borne of regret, even sorrow, wrapped in a sense of personal responsibility for one’s wrongdoing. It is a humbling practice, difficult and uncomfortable, but, like all practiced things, it gets easier as one grows.

And there is a certain, joyful liberation which follows the Sacrament of Confession. Every time I make a good confession, there is an immense moment of release, a removal of some dead weight—the crushing load of sin and guilt—I hadn't quite realized I’d been carrying. In its place is a new lightness of being. It’s as if a dirty filter in my soul had just been replaced, as if I have a pure, spotless soul—if only for a moment. Jesus’ promised joy is renewed in all of heaven, and in me. I am so close to Him, I think, in that moment after Confession, that I can feel a sliver of His same elation at my genuine repentance. For it is as if He has woven in my heart those words every Christian longs to hear: “Well done, my good and faithful servant… enter into the joy of your Master” (Matthew 25:21).