Could Repentance Be About Allowing Ourselves To Be Found?

Rev. Erik Swanson
March 1, 2026

The first time I went to Rome, I had a remarkable and humbling experience. It was Good Friday. As we were walking past a small church, we noticed a line forming outside. A quick look at our guidebook told us the church was open to the public only once a year — on Good Friday. Inside, it housed the Scala Sancta, the “Holy Stairs,” believed to be the very steps Jesus climbed to stand before Pontius Pilate. Tradition says they were brought from Jerusalem to Rome by Saint Helena in the fourth century.

The twenty-eight marble steps were covered in wood, except for small glass-covered openings where you could see stains said to be the blood of Jesus. Along with everyone else, I knelt and slowly climbed those stairs on my knees as an act of remembrance and penance. It was powerful. It was solemn. It was sincere. And it left a deep impression on me.

Repentance: Is It Getting Back Into God’s Good Graces?

That memory has come back to me this week as I reflect on repentance during Lent. Traditionally, I was taught that repentance meant recognizing how sinful I was, turning away from my badness, and somehow working my way back into God’s good graces. I remember being told that God was so offended by my sin that I had to do everything possible to purify myself so God could even bear to look at me. Repentance felt like exhausting spiritual labor — hail marys, acts of contrition, self-punishment. It didn’t feel especially grace-filled. It felt heavy, uncertain, and never quite finished.

Two Parables: Simply Getting Found

But recently, in our Bible study, we read the parables in Gospel of Luke about the lost sheep and the lost coin. At the end of both stories, Jesus says there is more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over those who need no repentance. That makes sense — God rejoices in repentance. But what struck me was this: the sheep and the coin don’t actually do anything. They don’t fix themselves. They don’t climb stairs. They simply get found.

God Seeks, Finds, Celebrates

In those parables, God is the shepherd and the searching woman — the One who seeks, finds, and celebrates. The sheep and coin’s role is simply to be found. What if repentance is less about punishing ourselves and more about allowing ourselves to be found? What if it is about turning our hearts enough to stop running, to stop hiding, to stop distracting ourselves, and simply let the Holy Shepherd gather us in?

Admitting We Are Lost In Order To Be Found

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. A crucial step is admitting we are lost. Not with condemnation, but with honesty. We cannot be found if we insist we are fine. This is true personally and collectively. I believe our country has lost its way in many respects. But as long as we cling to the narrative that we are beyond reproach, we cannot change. Admitting lostness is not punishment — it is the doorway to healing. What moves me most in those parables is the reaction when the lost is found. There is no scolding. No lecture. No shame. Only joy. Only celebration. That feels like good news. It aligns with the vision of growing by grace into the image of God in which we were created. Yes, there is turning involved. Yes, we wander. But being lost becomes an opportunity to be found more deeply.

Fasting From Self-Condemnation

So this Lent, maybe I fast not from food but from self-condemnation. Maybe I let go of crawling up metaphorical stairs and instead practice stillness. In the wilderness — personal or national — I trust that the Creator is the Great Pursuer and Great Celebrator. My task is not to thrash myself into worthiness, but to admit I am lost and allow myself to be found. And that, to me, changes everything.