True Confessions

Confession is the part of prayer we rather ignore.  We think of confessing as tearing off a super-glued band-aid and bleeding out again.

In our monthly communion service, we corporately confess, “we have sinned against You this day in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone,” so much easier said in unison with a big group of people.  We can’t always quite remember the specific details, but we pray Lord, have mercy, anyway.

“A generalized confession may save us from humiliation and shame, but it will not ignite inner healing,” wrote Richard Foster in Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth.

Confessing is not just about repeating words of a liturgy.  Something happens.  Something life-changing unfolds.

Long ago, our daughter taught her kids not just to throw out a casual “sorry” when they intentionally did something wrong or hurtful.  But to ‘fess up and say, “I was wrong for ______.  Will you forgive me?”  In the process, she was also showing them how to confess before God and what a changed heart looks like.

Those three little words “I was wrong” is what God redeems.  Those three little words mark when we realize how much we are loved.  Those three little words mark when we realize how much we love Him.

When we pray, we lay out our concerns before the Lord.   But confessing does the heavy lifting.  As an action verb, confessing means dragging the dead weight of our selfishness to the altar, a U-Haul of shame and guilt, and leaving it there.   Confessing means tearing in tiny little pieces a beloved ream of excuses and justifications.  Confessing means to finally stop hiding behind our dread and regret, what we have always wished would just disappear and maybe God didn’t notice.

But we all sin.  And that is why Jesus came. Confession, forgiveness, and healing are seamlessly woven. 

How differently would we live if confessing was a vital part of our prayer lives?  Not dwelling on the negative, “I’m such a bad person,” but freeing us up from the burden of our selfishness and rebellion against God, and living as “a forgiven person.”

Confessing gives God the space to move and remove, redeem and make all things new. Remember, God is the One who created confession, not to make us feel guilty, but that we would know full-heartedly that we are loved. He already knew that we could not do life alone.  Confessing is responding to God, “I love You too much to keep living like this without You.”

As I write, workers are in the attic replacing our temperamental air conditioner, malfunctioning in some form for eight years running.  In order for the technicians to do their installation, repairs, and reconnections, I had to make space for them to work. 

Yesterday, when I opened the attic door, I wondered how that was going to happen.  Start with the easy stuff, I told myself.  I threw out some empty boxes – you know, really good sturdy cartons that we might need someday.  A little margin appeared.  I shuffled a few things around and consolidated a couple bins. 

But I knew I was dancing around the inevitable.  Standing in the center of the attic was an almost 40-year-old rocking horse that our daughters played with as children. It was time.  It had taken up far too much space for far too long. 

Up until that point, I had not realized how so much of the attic was revolving around something that our grandchildren didn’t even want to play with.  But we all have complicated (and often ridiculous) emotions about our stuff, even more so about our favorite sins:  “It’s not so bad” and the all powerful “But I might need it someday.”  My mind began its traditional tug-of-war.  The voice of reason “Get rid of it,” argued vehemently with “I can’t just throw it away! I’ve had it for such a long time.”

Isn’t that what confession is all about?  Releasing what is standing in the way of our growing relationship with God?

Finally, I scooted that old faded horse into the hallway, and Bill took it down to the garage to donate to Goodwill. Letting go was not as painful as I thought it would be.  I just needed to get it over the threshold.

I honestly couldn’t believe how much space was freed up by letting go of one item that I didn’t even recognize or categorize as a burden.  With just that one thing gone, released, and removed, I could see a lot better what other ridiculous things I had been accumulating bit by bit.

I immediately thought, what if I let go – insert the word confess—all that other stuff?  Those idols in all shapes and sizes, selfishness crammed into easily accessible boxes, grudges I’d been tripping over, and downright wrongdoings stacked up in the corners of my heart?   What if those were confessed, released, and removed, how much more room would I find in my own heart, thoughts, and soul, to love God and to love others?  What cherished collections of excuses are getting in the way?  One single box of justifications multiplies exponentially, which is why self-storage units comprise an incredible $29 billion industry.

And we wonder why our hearts are overloaded with bad attitudes and stuffed with their supersized first cousins named Anxiety, Stress, and Worry?  What am I holding onto so tightly?

If things are going to be different, something has to change.

What hoarded cartons moved from one season of life to the next need to be finally opened, confessed, forgiven, and thrown irretrievably into the county dumpster?   Not making room for more, but opening up cavernous spaces in our crowded and anxious hearts for God’s healing and revealing hand.  And for the transformation of our souls that He yearns to provide.

“Honesty leads to confession, and confession leads to change,” Foster notes.

That’s the whole point of praying this way.

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.  1 John 1. 9

And God’s redeeming comes rushing in.