This is the fourth entry in our series THE ONLY NECESSARY THING, in which we are learning what prayer is, how it “works”, and different forms of prayer we can implement into our spiritual rhythms.
Confession opens us up to the continual forgiveness of God so we might choose back into love. When I was originally sketching out this current series, I made a list of types of prayer we might consider valuable in developing our intimacy with God. When the time came to speak on confession, I felt an initial dread that so often comes in dealing with issues like sin and darkness in our lives; yet as I began to pray the Lord reminded me of the beauty present in this type of prayer if we remember why we pray in the first place. What I hope to do here is frame an understanding of “sin” rooted in the Biblical narrative, and then unpack what confession is and why we participate in it. My hope is that we all come to realize this may actually be the grounding we need for closeness to Jesus.
Let us follow the thread from the beginning.
The Book of Genesis begins with two epic poems that describe the method and motivation behind the creative act as a reflection of God’s character and will. Far from this world being a product of accident or a result of violent chaos, our tradition holds that God created in ever-increasing diversity and unity, calling it “good” every step of the way. The creative act culminates in the dawn of humanity made in the image of God, the bridge between Spirit and Matter that God deems “very good”. This highest created good is born from love and contains within it a desire for reciprocated love, thus the powerful blessing of free will. In order to choose to respond to God’s love we must also have before us the option to not love. It is the risk of our design. Nothing else in creation holds that power to disagree with its created intention save humanity.
Tragically the project of unity and diversity takes a turn for the worst in Genesis 3. The serpent deceives the woman, offering her a shortcut to godlikeness by breaking the one prohibition God places in the garden. She eats of the forbidden fruit and offers it to the man, and “the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves” (Gen. 3:7). Symbolically the fig leaves speak to our present human condition - we carry with us a sense that we are not enough as we are, so we construct defense mechanisms to cover over our shame and protect ourselves from exposure. As the tragedy unfolds, we find God entering the garden seeking closeness to his children, but they hide from fear. God asks three questions that are at the heart of human pain and our attempts to deal with shame.
We are not what we do. However, what we do speaks of who we think we are. And who we really are is determined by Who gave us the gift of life. It is important to hear in these questions the pain in God’s voice, for too often we have envisioned a god who does not feel and is not affected emotionally by our offense and consequent suffering.
“Where are you?” in relation to God, the source of life. This is an almost geographical question of intimacy. Are we drawing close to the source, or are we pulling away because we feel unworthy or afraid?
“Who told you that you were naked?” the question of identity. This is where I hear the most pain in God’s voice. Why do you not believe I have created you to be enough in my eyes? Who convinced you otherwise of your true nature?
“What is this you have done?” invites a reflection on our actions based on a skewed understanding of who we have been created to be. We make choices not to live into God’s created intention because of our shame.
God then pronounces curses upon the woman, the man, and the serpent. It is important to note that curses are not lightning bolts thrust from on high, but declarations of the consequences of the choices we have made, declarations that God intends to repair over time. This brings us to a tremendously important corrective:
Sin is not what separates us from God; it is what draws God close to us so we might be reconciled. Many of us have grown up being told the former is the primary definition of sin - it is what makes us unworthy of God, and God cannot stand to be near us until we are cleansed. This leads to a shame-based and manipulative system of religiosity in which we must modify our behavior and clean ourselves up before we can approach the throne. In fact, this was the perspective of the Pharisees in the gospels who constantly criticized Jesus for eating with sinners and tax collectors. Yet if we believe Jesus is God in human flesh we begin to understand his rebuke to them that, “it is the not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick” (Luke 5:31) is the posture of God towards all humanity, regardless of sin. It is the human God’s merciful solidarity with humanity that heals shame and guilt, does away with sin, culminating in Jesus’ petition on the cross, “Father God, forgive them, for they know not what they do”(Luke 23:34). God forgives us even when we are ignorant and do not acknowledge our sin.
If this is true, then, what is the necessity of confession? I recall a conversation with a congregant years ago who had grown up in a religious environment in which the sacrament of sin felt like a way to control people and keep them small and beholden to the system, needing a priest’s absolution to be set free. Having left that institution behind for other expressions of the Christian faith they wondered, if we were forgiven through the cross what is the point of constantly confessing our sins? Is that not just keeping us in a cycle of shame and guilt? It is a worthy question to ponder.
I am deeply moved by the vulnerability David offers us in Psalm 32:3-5:
When I kept silent,
my bones wasted away
through my groaning all day long.
For day and night
your hand was heavy on me;
my strength was sapped
as in the heat of summer.
Then I acknowledged my sin to you
and did not cover up my iniquity.
I said, “I will confess
my transgressions to the Lord.”
And you forgave
the guilt of my sin.
To hide or ignore our sin is to refuse to accept the offer of unconditional forgiveness and restoration. We confess in order to re-establish intimacy. Sometimes our inner turmoil and a perceived distance from God exist because we have unacknowledged or unexpressed sin within us. Consider this in human terms - when we have offended someone we love and yet do not address it, the hiddenness affects how we interact with them, even if we trust that they forgive us and want to move forward. We are hesitant, we withhold ourselves. The reality is that divine forgiveness was not a one-time proclamation on the cross, it is a constant posture of God. God is always forgiving, because God is always loving. It strikes me that conditional forgiveness, requiring some form of attrition or payment before the gift, is not true forgiveness but ransom. And we know from our atonement theories that it is the Enemy who attempts to holds us hostage for payment, not God. However, our free will means we are capable of resisting God’s love and mercy because of our own feelings of shame and guilt, which makes the heaviness of love feel oppressive until we are able to open up through confession and release what binds us. "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” (rom. 8:35). We will, left to our own devices.
The community of John expresses this concept of forgiveness as the radiance of love beautifully using the metaphor of light:
This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.
If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word is not in us. (1 John 1:5-10)
The light of Christ exposes what has been hidden, so we might be purified as we walk in forgiveness and love. What does light do? It exposes and disinfects. I am convinced that the majority of our sins are a result of ignorance and not malice. We are bumping around in the dark, hurting ourselves, others, and God. When Divine Light shines into our lives, we are able to see clearly, perhaps for the first time, what we could not in our blindness. The unhealthy patterns, the dark thoughts, the offenses in our hearts that have been shoved under the bed or stuffed in the closet. This process, called conviction, can be terribly humiliating at first as it triggers the ancient shame of exposure carried by our ancestors. Indeed, this is the moment the Enemy can infiltrate and condemn us, which is to insist that our darkness is what defines us in our totality. However, the conviction of Christ reveals to us all our darkness and all our most godly traits as well. We see ourselves wholly in the light, and ar left to consider what we will do next. We then offer up what has been revealed to God in prayers of confession, and ask for the grace we need to overcome what binds us. Christ purifies us so that we can grow into our true selves - some call this process sanctification in the West, or deification in the East. Far from being a controlling oppressive sacrament meant to keep us small and powerless, a rhythm of confession reminds us that we walk the world as a forgiven people, showing what happens when the light gets in. We become light-bringers wherever we go.
Growing up in the Anglican tradition from the cradle, I memorized our prayer of confession which I still use today:
Most merciful God,
we confess that we have sinned against you
in thought, word, and deed,
by what we have done,
and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart;
we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.
For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,
have mercy on us and forgive us;
that we may delight in your will,
and walk in your ways,
to the glory of your Name. Amen.
The celebrant (usually my father) would then declare over us the forgiveness of sins:
Almighty God have mercy on you,
forgive you all your sins through our Lord Jesus Christ,
strengthen you in all goodness,
and by the power of the Holy Spirit keep you in eternal life.
Amen.
I find this prayer incredibly helpful in leading me to open up my life to the light of Christ. I begin to see that sin is not merely actions, but also offensive thoughts and words. I admit that there are sins of omission, things I did not do that I know I should have. And it all ties back to my failure to live up to the Greatest Commandment.
The second half of the prayer, just as important, is a petition for empowerment. I need, we need, mercy and grace to walk in Jesus’ way and to overcome sin. This requires divine gifts of wisdom, courage, and so on.
I want to encourage you to implement this prayer of confession or some similar pattern into your prayer rhythms. Remember that liturgical prayers are only as effective as the heart posture of those who pray them. Go slowly, pausing to let the Spirit of Jesus gently yet honestly reveal to you what is hidden. Speak those things aloud to God, and then turn to ask God for what you need to grow. God is always loving, always forgiving, we simply need to receive.