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Devotional | Jeremiah Braudrick | Jun 15, 2025
“The time has come,” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!” Mark 1:15
I find Mark 1:15 to be one of the most freeing and encouraging passages in all of Scripture—though slightly mistranslated. While many of our modern translations hover closer to the original Greek language, several popular ones, in my opinion, don’t quite do it justice. Where we read the word “repent”, the original Greek word is actually metanoia (μετάνοια). I could go on a deep dive explaining this Greek word, but my simple definition is: change your mind.
While one can understand the leap translators made from ““change your mind” to “repent””, many theologians agree that the translation to simply repent does a disservice to what Christ was actually inviting us to understand. Yes, repentance is of high importance—as Christ reminded us to ask for forgiveness literally every time we pray (Which I always found comforting, as if he knew we would be in constant need of forgiveness—which I most certainly am.) The beauty of the invitation to change our mind is dulled when we simply read it as a call to repent.
“The Kingdom of God has come near. Change your mind and believe this good news.” This packs a much more beautiful punch. The very first recorded words of Christ are a call to let go of our previously small, potentially even petty, view of God—and even of Heaven itself—which Christ tells us is both here and later. In Luke, he even says the Kingdom of Heaven is within us. We’re free to continue expanding our view of God. We’re free to change our minds at any moment and step into the Kingdom of Heaven, which surrounds us every passing moment of our day, in everyone we encounter and everything we see and touch.
While I could take this devotion in a variety of ways within this context, this Father’s Day, I suppose I’ll share perhaps the largest change of mind I’ve encountered concerning my relationship with our Creator. I believe God has revealed himself to humanity in a few different ways. For one, I agree with Paul that God’s first testament is nature itself and the Law of God branded on all of our hearts—which has been declaring God’s majesty long before the Bible was officially put together. Another way God reveals himself is, of course, through the person and ministry of Jesus Christ. Another is through Scripture. But I find my relationship with my son to be an ever-present, ever-powerful revelation of who God is and how he relates to his own children … us.
Before I fell in love with my child, my view of God was very small. I had a very small, performative, transactional view of God. Grace and acceptance were something we had to earn, even though we would never actually say that. We love to talk about the free grace provided to us by the cross of Christ … but our emotions, our feelings of inadequacy, and our failure tell a much different story.
A small view of God demands we earn our acceptance. When I did well, I supposed God loved me a bit more. When I didn’t do well, I just knew he was shaking his head. My status before God was very shaky. I had a very small view of myself—hence, I assumed God agreed with me. My proclivity to do the wrong, thing when the right thing was all but slapping me in the face, was a constant reminder that I was very bad at this whole following Christ thing.
I always like to say, ““I’ve always known that God has loved me—but I didn’t think he liked me very much”” … not with my mistakes … not with my thoughts … not with my fears or lack of trust. I was a very bad child of the Holy God who expected much more of me than I was able to give. But then he gave me a son.
“The Kingdom of God has come near. Change your mind and believe this good news.” I love my son fully, even in the midst of his imperfections. He has taught me that true love can never be transactional. It is never based on performance, even if my son feels it is at times. The English language falls desperately short when it comes to describing my eternal and steadfast love for my child. It is unchanging. It is unbreakable. It never wavers—either on my son’s best days or his worst. I’ll put up with a lot under my roof, but my son’s guilt and shame—his potential low view of self—is not welcome. I love him too much to allow it. And that’s something he could never lose, no matter how off the rails he might go. It might as well be categorized with the other constant forces of nature we’re surrounded by every moment of every day. Where did that come from? It’s not anything I planned for or tried for. My love for my son just is.
“Change your mind.” The same is true with our Heavenly Father. I’ve long abandoned the notion that I am able to love larger than God—who John describes as Love itself. I’ve long abandoned the notion that I am able to forgive more than the One who invented forgiveness. I’ve long abandoned the notion that I am able to offer more patience and understanding than the One who invented patience and understanding. If I love, then I am loved. If I understand, then I am understood. If I forgive, then I am forgiven. It’s not much more complicated than that, I suppose.
Our status before God—as a child of the living Creator who crafted each of us out of dirt and breathed life into our lungs—is unwavering. It’s as consistent as gravity—much like my relationship with my son—only a million times over. The Kingdom of God is here, and our small views of ourselves are not allowed. Our guilt and shame when we fall short of who we aspire to be—and the Christ we desire to imitate—are not welcome in the Kingdom of Heaven. We’re children of God! Let that sink in. Don’t just understand it. Don’t just agree with it. Let yourself feel it. Let yourself be freed because of it. Parents, please take a loving, understanding, and patient look at your children—and thank God for his eternal love, understanding, and patience with you. It’s not going anywhere. You’re more loved, accepted, and forgiven than you ever dare hope. Change your mind and believe this good news!
PRAYER
Heavenly Father, I pray that you’ll give us all a proper lens in which to view both your love for us and acceptance. Remind us that we’re still children. Remind us that we’re still okay. Remind us of you on this Father’s Day, that you are the good, good Father, and that’s a truth we can be encouraged by and perhaps even relax into.
Jeremiah BraudrickDirector, Prison Campuses
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