Own It!
Own It!
When It’s Easier to Deny Than to Admit
Think about how hard it is to simply say, “Yes, I did that. It was wrong.” We’d rather excuse, deflect, or deny. Even in the NFL, where everything is on camera, players still sometimes insist, “I didn’t do it,” while the replay clearly shows otherwise.
That tension is at the heart of Ezra 9–10. God’s people are caught in serious compromise, and the question is: Will they own it? Will they face their sin honestly, or try to minimize and hide it?
Through the closing chapters of Ezra, we see three key movements of genuine repentance:
Address compromise honestly
Admit failure humbly
Apply repentance wisely
1. Address Compromise Honestly
After the second wave of exiles returns to Jerusalem under Ezra’s leadership, officials bring him devastating news (Ezra 9:1–2). Many of the people—including priests and leaders—have married spouses from surrounding pagan nations, directly ignoring God’s commands.
This was never about ethnicity; it was about worship and holiness. These nations brought with them idolatry, immorality, and practices that would pull God’s people away from Him. God had clearly warned them that joining their lives in marriage with worshipers of other gods would lead to compromise.
When Ezra hears this, he’s shattered. He tears his clothes, pulls out hair, and sits appalled (9:3). Why? Because he knows this is exactly the kind of sin that led to the exile in the first place. History is in danger of repeating itself.
This raises a question for us: When was the last time sin grieved us that deeply—especially our own?
We live in a culture where patterns of sin, like living together before marriage, are normalized and even expected. Many couples, including churchgoers, move in together before saying their vows, despite clear biblical teaching and the damage this often causes to commitment and long-term health.
When we stop being troubled by what God calls sin, we’re only a step away from being shaped by it. To “own it,” we must be willing to name compromise instead of excusing it, whether that’s cohabitation, dishonesty, bitterness, or anything else outside His will.
2. Admit Failure Humbly
Ezra doesn’t just point fingers at “those people.” At the evening sacrifice, he falls to his knees and begins to pray a prayer of confession that includes himself (Ezra 9:5–6). He speaks in terms of “our iniquities” and “our guilt.”
Even though he personally hasn’t taken a foreign wife, he identifies with the sins of the community. Israel is a covenant people, and the sins of some affect the whole. In the same way, the choices of individuals in a church family shape the health and witness of the entire body.
As Ezra prays, he remembers their history: how their persistent disobedience led to sword, captivity, and shame (9:7). But he also remembers something else—God’s mercy. God has punished them less than they deserved and has graciously allowed a remnant to return, rebuild the temple, and enjoy protection under Persian kings (9:8–9).
And yet, despite all that mercy, the people are going back to the very patterns that wrecked them before. Ezra is embarrassed—not by God’s discipline, but by God’s kindness in the face of such ongoing disobedience (9:13–15).
This is where we often live too. We enjoy God’s grace and begin to assume He will always be lenient, no matter what. We presume on His kindness. But continued sin in the face of mercy is not a small thing—it’s a serious offense.
To own it, we must admit failure humbly—personally and as a community. Not “They messed up,” but “We’ve sinned. I’ve sinned. We have presumed on Your grace, and we’re wrong.”
3. Apply Repentance Wisely
Ezra 10 shows us that true repentance is more than emotion—it leads to action. While Ezra is praying and weeping, a large crowd gathers and joins him in sorrow over their unfaithfulness (10:1).
A man named Shekaniah speaks up (10:2–4). He admits their sin and then says a crucial line: “But in spite of this, there is still hope for Israel.” He proposes a plan to make a covenant, in line with God’s law, to send away the foreign wives and children who have been drawn into this illegitimate situation.
The people agree. They gather in Jerusalem, even in cold, miserable rain (10:9), distressed both by the weather and by the weight of what’s happening. Ezra confronts them directly, and the whole assembly responds, “You are right! We must do as you say” (10:10–12).
This is a hard passage. The idea of sending away wives and children is deeply troubling. Several important clarifications help us here:
This is not ethnic prejudice. Scripture welcomes believing foreigners like Rahab and Ruth. The issue here is idolatry and spiritually destructive practices, not nationality.
These unions were disobedient from the start under the covenant. They should not have been entered into in the first place.
Historical evidence suggests that the sending away was not abandonment, but a formal removal from the covenant community with appropriate provision.
This passage is descriptive, not prescriptive. It records what was done in this specific moment; it is not a model for Christian marriages today. The New Testament is clear: God hates divorce, and believers are called to stay with an unbelieving spouse who is willing to remain.
While we might not fully grasp every nuance, we can’t miss the core principle:
Repentance involves separating from whatever fuels our sin.
You cannot say you’re repenting of lust while keeping easy access to pornography. You cannot say you’re repenting of gossip while eagerly returning to the same gossip circles. You cannot say you’re repenting of greed while clinging tightly to every dollar and refusing generosity.
Repentance means turning away—reordering habits, relationships, and patterns so that we are moving toward God, not simply feeling bad about our past.
To own it, we must apply repentance wisely and decisively, even when it costs us comfort, convenience, or long-held patterns.
Returning, Rebuilding, Renewing
The book of Ezra ends not with a neat bow, but with a community on its knees, taking hard steps toward holiness. It reminds us that spiritual renewal doesn’t come through comfort, convenience, or compromise. It comes through a costly return to God.
So as we close this series—Return. Rebuild. Renew.—we’re left with some piercing questions:
Will we return to God with wholehearted devotion, not just lip service?
Will we rebuild the broken places in our lives on His Word instead of our own preferences?
Will we renew our commitment to holiness, even when it means making difficult changes?
Ezra shows us the path:
Grace opens the door.
Repentance walks through it.
Obedience keeps us there.
The time for passivity is over. The time for courage has come. Let’s not just admire Ezra’s story; let’s step into it—owning our sin, turning from it, and renewing our lives for God’s glory.