Running Toward Mercy: Finding Clarity in Repentance

Sometimes, when I’m running solo up a long, gradual hill, my legs burning and my rhythmic breathing helping me to focus, I experience a distinct kind of clarity. I experienced this just the other day during a long run in my hometown, climbing a silent road lined with bare trees, the light of the sun peeking through like grace breaking into the present moment. I was praying as I ran, reflecting, when suddenly—without provocation—an old memory surfaced.

It was from high school—the painful breakup of one of my first “serious” relationships. I had long known that I was at fault in many ways and had carried regret for it. But for some reason, on that hill, I saw it in a new light—not just as an isolated mistake but as a moment that set me on a trajectory that wasn’t always good or healthy. My first instinct was to look away, to rationalize it, to excuse myself with the familiar refrain: "I was young. Things have changed."

But then I realized—the Lord put this on my heart for a reason. The last line from today’s first reading from the Book of Jonah tells us that God had mercy on the Ninevites “when [He] saw by their actions how they turned from their evil way.” In the verse preceding the Gospel, the Prophet Joel beckons, saying, “Return to me with your whole heart.” And in the Gospel of Luke, Jesus, calling his listeners to repent, urges, “There is something greater than Jonah here.” Christ does not simply call us to repentance—He is the very source of our healing. But we cannot receive that healing if we refuse to face what is broken.

What parts of ourselves, our lives, or our history need repentance? What are the signs—the memories, the stirrings of conscience, the grace breaking in like sunlight peeking through tree limbs—that direct our attention to them? And most importantly, will we turn toward God’s mercy, or will we turn away?

We cannot be whole unless we allow Christ to make us whole. That means embracing His light, even when it illuminates the parts of ourselves we’d rather leave in shadow. It means turning toward Him in humility, trusting that His mercy is greater than our sins. And as we repent, we must also follow it up with actions that reflect the change taking place in our hearts. At the very least, we can pray—for those we have hurt, ignored, or treated unjustly or unlovingly.

I eventually reached the top of the hill, and the road leveled out. My breathing steadied. But the call remained: Repent.