Repair As Holiness

Scripture: “Bear fruit worthy of repentance.” — Matthew 3:8

When I was a freshman in high school, I decided I didn't want to participate in a particular P.E. unit, so I didn't "dress out" for a few periods during the semester.  

This meant that I didn't don the required shorts and tee shirt for the class, and sat on the field with other people who didn't dress out either.  

The teacher didn't say much about it, so I decided it wasn't a big deal, until I received my progress report and discovered that I had an "F" in the class for that grading period.  

I was also informed that I was ineligible to play basketball (I was a starter) until my grade met the passing standard.  I pleaded, I begged, I offered to do manual labor to earn extra credit, but to no avail.  

My teacher told me that if I was genuinely sorry, I would need to show that I'd learned my lesson. 

For the next three weeks, I dutifully dressed out for P.E., threw myself into school work, and watched miserably from the bench in street clothes as my team played several games without me.  

When I finally heard I was no longer ineligible, I immediately told my coach, who said, "Well, I hope you really repented."  I told him I had and would never let something like that happen again.  

He made me ride the bench another game for good measure, though. I can't say that I blamed him.    

It’s easy to think of repentance as a moment—an apology, a prayer, a feeling of remorse. But in Scripture, repentance is not simply an emotion or confession; it is a movement toward repair. John the Baptist doesn’t say, “Feel repentant.” He says, “Bear fruit,” meaning repentance should produce visible change.

Zacchaeus is perhaps the clearest biblical example. When he encounters Jesus, he doesn’t merely confess his wrongdoing. He restores what he took and goes beyond the minimum requirement. His repentance is not proven by his words but by his willingness to repair harm. 

Biblical repentance always leans toward restoration: making amends, acknowledging impact, giving back what was taken, and rebuilding trust through changed behavior.

In our modern world, we often apologize quickly to move past discomfort. We say, “I’m sorry if you were hurt,” or “Let’s just forget this,” hoping to smooth over conflict rather than address it. 

But repair is rarely fast or easy. It may require patience, listening, humility, accountability, and, at times, restitution. It may require us to face parts of ourselves we would rather not see. Yet the work of repair is sacred because it mirrors the heart of God, who constantly moves toward reconciliation.

What makes repair holy is not perfection but sincerity. It is the courage to say: I acknowledge the harm. I want to make it right. I am committed to changing my patterns. I value this relationship enough to do the work. Repair is relational love in action. It honors the dignity of the person hurt and allows grace to take tangible form.

Repair does not guarantee immediate reconciliation—trust takes time, and healing moves at its own pace. But choosing to repair is choosing the path of Christ, who did not merely speak forgiveness but embodied it. When we take even one step toward repair, we participate in the redemption God is always working in the world.

Prayer

Reconciling God, give me the courage to move beyond apology into true repair. Show me where healing is needed and give me the humility to take responsibility for my actions. Strengthen my desire to honor others, restore what is broken, and align my heart with the grace you continually show me. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. Is there someone in your life to whom you owe not just an apology, but a next step toward repair?

2. What fear or pride makes repair difficult for you?

3. What small but meaningful action could you take this week to restore trust or mend harm?