I'm sorry, I really am.
     But I have to confess, I was tardy turning in this column. It's aptly named The Last Word because it is the absolutely last section ready for the magazine.
     This isn't because it takes so long or requires hours of agonizing introspection, research or polishing.
     No, it's because I'm just always late. My submission continues to arrive at the very last possible moment. The simple explanation? I'd much rather talk than write.
     For a long time I used my physical condition to excuse my sloth, but now that my health has greatly improved, that excuse no longer works.
     Darn.
     A few issues ago my excuse was that the hard drive on my computer crashed and destroyed everything I had written. If I could, I'd claim that my dog ate my homework. But this issue I have the perfect excuse. This column is on the need for true repentance, and I can serve as an example of what not to do.
     Sorry.
     To truly repent is arguably the last thing anyone wants to do.
     We all learned a surface definition of repentance early in life: whenever we were caught doing something our parents thought was wrong we were told to say, "I'm sorry."
     (Actually, with some parents, the first thing is that we get smacked).
     Most of the time we don't really mean it—it's just something we have to say to get on with our life.
     Another type of repentance is when we get ourselves in a really bad situation and we make a deal with God. This is often adopted by prisoners on death row and soldiers in combat.
     In 1958, I learned that I was transferring early from a remote surveillance outpost in Korea to an island in the South Pacific. To celebrate leaving that awful place, a friend and I drank five bottles of sloe gin, and I ended up with the "dry heaves." (If you don't know what that is, be thankful). I was so miserable that I prayed, "God, get me through this and I will stop drinking forever." I eventually got better, but I only stopped drinking for a week.
     Then there is the ever popular, "Forgive me if I have done anything to offend you."
     This is popular with televangelists. It is sometimes accompanied by copious tears.
     The New York Times recently published excerpts from the book My Bad: 25 years of Public Apologies and the Apalling Behavior That Inspired Them by Paul Slansky and Arleen Sorkin. Readers were challenged to match the apologies and excuses with the politicians and celebrities who made them.
     For instance, can you remember who said, "I apologize to my Jewish friends here and around the world"?
     It could have been several religious celebrities, but in fact it was Jerry Falwell apologizing for saying that the Antichrist had to be a Jew.
     It's appalling and familiar at the same time because we've all been there, done that. But are any of these really what the Bible calls repentance?
     The Hebrew shub or "turn" is used for repentance in the Old Testament. Jesus tells us that turning away from our sin is impossible without turning away from ourselves.
     Jesus said, "Whosoever shall seek to save his life shall lose it; and whosoever shall lose his life shall preserve it."
     Is it really repentance if we "accept Jesus as our personal Savior" with the intent of bettering any aspect of our life?
     The true meaning of repentance is to abandon yourself completely to the will of God and, as Esther declared, "If I perish, I perish."
     Martin Luther said our understanding of repentance must be continuous:
     "You must get this through your head and not doubt that you are the one who is torturing Christ thus, for your sins have surely wrought this... Therefore when you see nails piercing Christ's hands, you can be sure it is your work. When you behold His crown of thorns, you may rest assured that these are your thoughts..." (A Meditation on Christ's Passion, 1519).
     In the Apostle Paul's words, each of us must see ourselves as "chief of sinners." We know that we are dead; this was certified when we were buried in baptism. We can abandon our life to the hands of a loving Father.
     In the end, repentance is a joy, not a job.
     And it really must be constant. Sometimes I'll be teaching and have to repent in mid-sentence. Something has focused my attention back on myself. I realize I've left grace and mercy and light. Maybe I'm burdened with a concern. It can be anything, but I know I have to get back to the cross.
     In English, terms like "repentance," "penance," "penitentiary," and "penitent" all imply grief, sorrow, punishment or regret.
     But if our understanding of repentance doesn't include the element of joy, it's not authentic.
     Esau embodies this modern, surface expression of repentance. He sold his birthright for a mess of pottage and later "he found no place of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears" (Hebrews 12:17).
     Regret and sorrow for doing wrong are all social necessities. Our society would be chaotic without them. But these words have no relationship to the spiritual meaning of repentance.
     After all, there's no regret in turning away from a pile of dung.
     True repentance costs us our lives; but, as the adage says, "he is no fool who gives up that which he never owned, to gain that which he can never lose."
     I hope this all came across clearly, but, on a personal note, if anyone has been offended, I sincerely apologize. Mistakes were made in the heat of the moment. It was unfortunate, I didn't intend it, and there's no excuse for it whatsoever. Selah.

Ole's morning bible study is available here.