Recap: Confession

On Sunday, we learned from Pope Francis' example that to start at the very beginning is to acknowledge oneself as a sinner.  We ruefully acknowledged that society isn't set up in such a way as to encourage this kind of self-disclosure.  In fact, most of society and culture is built on protecting and preserving the pretensions that we are practically perfect.

That is why Pope Francis' admission of sinfulness (and he hadn't even done anything wrong yet that would require a carefully worded (spun) apology) was a shock to many outside the church and should serve as a refresher for those of us inside the church.

This morning I was reminded of three more examples of what it means, what it could look like, to live as assured and confessing people.

1) There is a great story about the famous novelist and lay Catholic theologian, G.K. Chesterton who, in response to an inquiry from The Times of London posing the question, “What’s wrong with the world today?” Chesterton responded with two words:

Dear Sirs,

I am.

Yours, G.K. Chesterton.

2) Donald Miller tells a story in his memoir, Blue Like Jazz, about the time the Christian ministry at notoriously liberal Reed College set up a "Confession Booth" right in the middle of campus.  And right in the middle of the craziest, party-laced week of the year.  One drunken undergraduate stumbled in ready for a fight.  "You want me to tell you what's so wrong with me?"  The response?  "No, we're glad you are here.  We'd like to tell you what's wrong with us." The student volunteer went on to list a series of historical tragedies either propagated or ignored by the Christian Church.  The student volunteer went on to apologize for any experience this student might have had with the church or any individual Christians that were hurtful and condemnatory instead of gracious and truthful.  The poor fellow was befuddled.  Could have been the booze.  Could have been that he heard the Gospel of Grace for once.  Both are strangely similar phenomena.  But he left the confession booth and told all his friends, "Man, you've got to go in there."

3) This past week, a dear friend of mine celebrated 10 continuous years of sobriety.  I couldn't be prouder!  Thinking about his experience and my own visit -- as a seminary student -- to an open narcotics anonymous meeting, I realize that if you want to know what it looks like to lead with humility, to start from the foundation of shared brokenness, I WISH the church were 1/2 as good at this as your local meeting.  Each person who speaks begins, "Hi, my name is _______, and I'm an alcoholic."  Then the speaker is warmly greeted and encouraged to continue speaking if he/she wishes.  How great would it be if that's how it was in church.  Each week, "Hi, my name is Meg.  I am a sinner."  So on and so forth around the room.  And together -- as those who are equally sinful and equally redeemed -- we enter the throneroom of God to receive grace again and to offer the praise and thanksgiving that such forgiveness requires.

One sermon can't do it all.  Those are the illustrations I left out. But they might work as you consider the outworking of sin, forgiveness, grace and gratitude in your life this week.