Rich Mullins' Life & Legacy

When I was young, I had a pretty severe understanding of how God worked.  I figured that God was just waiting around for me to mess up, so that judgment would fall upon me in some fashion.  

I lived in fear of this God, not the biblical kind, which speaks of respect, but absolute dread.  I thought that I constantly had one foot in Hell and the other on a banana peel.  It wasn't a great way to experience faith. 

Even as I've grown spiritually and in my relationship with God and faith, I still have lingering feelings at times that I'm not measuring up.  I think most of us have had or continue to have those kinds of feelings, despite how loving we believe God to be.  

Repentance and forgiveness sit at the very heart of the Christian life, yet they are often misunderstood. Many of us were taught—directly or indirectly—to imagine God as a strict rule-keeper, a divine accountant tracking every failure. 

In that framework, repentance becomes a fearful transaction: we confess so God will not punish us. But Scripture paints a far more beautiful picture. Repentance is not about groveling before an angry God; it is about turning back toward a God who never stopped loving us.

Richard Rohr names this with stunning clarity:

“every time God forgives us, God is saying that God's own rules do not matter as much as the relationship that God wants to create with us.”

This does not mean God has no moral vision or that our choices are unimportant. It means that God’s deepest priority is not enforcing perfection, but restoring communion. Forgiveness is not God reluctantly bending the rules; it is God revealing the very purpose of the rules—to guide us into life, wholeness, and love.

The psalmist captures this posture when he prays, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10). Notice the focus is not merely on erasing guilt, but on transformation. Repentance is a turning of the heart, a reorientation toward the God who renews us from the inside out.

Jesus embodies this truth again and again. In the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11–32), the father does not wait with folded arms and a lecture prepared. He runs. He embraces. He restores. The son’s confession matters, but it is the father’s love that sets everything in motion. The relationship matters more than the record of wrongs.

The apostle John assures us, “If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). Forgiveness flows not from our ability to fix ourselves, but from God’s faithful character. Paul echoes this when he writes, “God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance” (Romans 2:4). It is grace that invites change, not shame.

When we truly grasp this, repentance becomes less about fear and more about hope. We turn back to God not because we are terrified of rejection, but because we trust in mercy. We change not to earn love, but because we are already loved.

So if you are longing for a new beginning, take heart. Turn toward God with honesty. Open your life to transformation. You are met by a God whose grace is wider than your failures and whose mercy is deeper than your regret. In repentance, you are not condemned—you are welcomed home.

Prayer
Gracious God, thank you for loving us more than our mistakes. Create in us clean hearts and willing spirits. Help us turn toward you with trust, knowing that your mercy meets us every time. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. How have you tended to view repentance in the past—through fear or through hope?

2. Where do you sense God inviting you into change or renewal right now?

3. What might it look like to trust God’s forgiveness more deeply this week?