Some Thoughts on the Practice of Confession

For a long time, I have carried a belief that a regular part of almost any worship service - the Confession - is mostly superfluous. My logic on this went as follows: Since Jesus died for our sins, that act of sacrificial grace was a once-and-for-all watershed in human history. From that moment on, all sin falls under grace. So my internal question has been: why go through the motions of confessing when it's already forgiven (and forgotten). Many in the pews may ask that same question using my logic or some other rationalization. But this is something that I've been rethinking. 

I've been lost for a couple of weeks in two different theological books.  The first is Ralph Martin's The Fulfillment of All Desire.  The other book is Ann LaForest's Therese of Lisieux.

The Primacy of Grace

Martin makes a strong case that the Christian faith is held and glued together by grace, the completely unmerited love of God. We can't earn salvation. However, grace does need to be accepted, and there are "terms" attached to that acceptance.  Most notably, we are signing into a relationship. All relationships have boundaries and terms that sustain their quality.  For instance, household chores are almost universally something that has to get negotiated (and renegotiated!), or there's trouble.

Yes, grace is freely offered. However, it is not a license to be an awful human being or to use it as a permanent 'get out of jail free' card and carry on the bad behaviors that hurt ourselves and others. That is using God to salve whatever guilty conscience we might have and go on, without reflection, sinning freely. 

So, confession calls us to consider where we are abusing the relationship we have with God.  St. Therese says it this way, "The only grace I ask of You is that I never offend you."  Turning it on us personally, "How might Jesus take offense at your behavior today?" I would hazard to say that the vast majority of us could always find ways we let Jesus down or could show our devotion to him better. That is the crux of purpose in confession.  For some, myself included, keeping up on confession daily is a spiritually healthy practice to adopt. 

Peace, Equity, and Justice for All

 We are nearing the end of Advent 2025.  The Church looks once again to the birth of the most important person ever to step onto our planet. In the Living Christ, hope is restored, healing arises, and grace abounds. The gap between birth and death, dark and light, broken trust and forgiveness, lost and found, is bridged. Jesus takes up the ripped or cut ends of time and pulls them back together, putting us on track - aligning us once more to the Holy Way.  The Christmas call is to take up one's staff and get back on the Good Road from wherever we have been lured, strayed, or fallen off. 

The means to do this is easy. Look into the man this small baby becomes. With him, our calendars and how we mark time changed.  A spiritual awakening saw the worldwide spread of a new religion.  While we, humans, botched it -- as we always have -- mingling in power, greed, fear, and corruption, the steady-handed, non-anxious presence of Jesus' life revealed a life-giving Beatitude that, were it to catch hold in each of us, there truly could be global peace, equity, and justice for all.

So, as we sing in many a candlelight service on Christmas Eve, the familiar strains of Silent Night, or O Come, O Come Emmanuel, or Hark the Herald Angels Sing, let us each recommit a sacred space within our hearts to follow this wee boy in a manager striving to live his message as our own lives.  

Christ the King

This coming Sunday is "Christ the King" Sunday.  It is the last Sunday of the Christian Church year.  The following Sunday is the first Sunday of Advent. The name for this Sunday has some oddities that might rub us the wrong way. As a nation, many participated in protests shouting, "No Kings!" So what does it mean to turn around and envision Jesus as a King? 

The use of the King image has its roots back in the human era, when feudalism was the only economic/political system in operation at the rise of nation-states in Europe. Church doctrine was coming together bit by bit, church council by church council.  It's logical for the Church to look for a unifying image for the "head of the Church."  The position of king was the most powerful figure in people's lives.  They needed an image of Christ that would communicate that he was the leader over people's lives.  

The profound irony, however, is that Jesus explicitly rejected that role in his life.  As he rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday on a donkey (or colt), it was purposely not a war stallion.  While there were groups who wanted Jesus to declare himself a king or emperor and overthrow Rome, he forcefully rejected the role. The word he most often referenced for his leadership style was "servant."

So here we are with this archaic doctrinal reference to Jesus to which tradition keeps us melded. I'll not get into the added tangle of patriarchal language. So, is this redeemable?  I think it is. 

All of us who follow Jesus, and hold him as a serious guiding principle in our lives can still see the congruity of using monarch as an image.  It connotes an authority whom we adopt as the moral guide for our lives.  So the redeeming question becomes this: What does Jesus as Monarch mean to my life?  What kind of Monarch is he to me?  For me, he would be:

A powerful presence yet humble.  Instructive but not domineering.  Judge of all good, not petty, unfair, lacking in understanding, or uncaring.  Beloved -- always on the right side of peace, encouraging plenty for all.  Charismatic - luring us to be like him without the force of legalism.  Gentle -- not vengeful or vindictive.

Inviting this very unique monarch into our hearts as the guiding founder of our faith and spiritual life is exactly what we need for our spiritual health, as well as the Vision for our world.