According to theologian John Stott, Marghanita Laski, who had been a well-known secular humanist thought-leader and author, made the following surprising confession not long before she died in 1988: “What I envy most about you Christians is your forgiveness; I have nobody to forgive me.”
Anyone who has made an error of judgement or who has found themselves harbouring a shameful secret knows the sick feeling in the stomach and the sense of dread that comes when you face being found out. We all carry, in some measure, the fear that if our cupboards were flung open, and others knew the skeletons that we kept hidden there, that they would shrink away in horror and immediately shut us out of their lives. If they knew what really went through our minds they would be shocked. If they knew the secret temptations that we fight each day, they would never speak to us again. And so we live a double life, with parts of ourselves properly presented for public consumption, and other parts carefully hidden away.
But, some of us know another reality as well. It’s the surprising and liberating feeling of opening the doors to our cupboards and chasing the skeletons out into the open. It’s the freedom that comes when we know that we can hide no longer, and we begin to live an honest, integrated life, no matter the cost. And, make no mistake; there is a cost. Some people will turn away. Some relationships will not be able to bear the honesty. Some rejection is inevitable. But, the pain of living as a whole person, the pain of refusing to hide is far less than the pain of our secrets. And this is why we need to make confession a regular, spiritual practice.
In any surgery, healing can only come at the cost of pain. The surgeon must inflict a wound in order to heal, and the sick person must endure the agony, and take the necessary time to recuperate and restore. We can avoid the pain of the operation, but if we choose to do so, we will continue to live with a sickness that will only get worse. The work of confession is like this. We can choose not to undergo the painful work of honesty and openness. We can keep our shame hidden, and we can pretend that we’re fine, but we will know that inside of us is a cancer that will only grow until it consumes us. But, if we can find the courage to confess, we discover that there is healing to be found on the other side of the pain. We may be rejected or misunderstood, we may have to make amends and change our behaviour and choices, but we will know that the sickness has been removed and the healing has begun. And, when the pain has subsided, we know the glorious freedom of life with a clean slate.
This is why organisations like Alcoholics Anonymous insist that members admit that they have a problem – that they are broken and addicted – and that they “come clean” about it and make amends wherever they can. Sin that is brought into the open loses its power, but sin that is hidden is a formidable opponent.
There’s one more gift that confession offers. While some people, in their fear, will shut us out of their lives, we will find others – usually broken and recuperating themselves – who will welcome us, accept us and celebrate our healing. And when we look into the face of someone who knows our worst and loves us anyway, we discover to our joy, that we have looked into the forgiving face of Christ.
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John van de Laar is a Methodist minister, liturgical consultant and the author of the book Food for the Road – Life Lesson from the Lord’s Table. He holds a Master’s Degree in theology from UNISA, and is the founder of Sacredise.com, an international worship training and resourcing ministry. John is married to Debbie, and they have two sons.
Visit www.sacredise.com for more articles by John, as well as resources for personal and public worship – music, prayers, liturgies, images and drama scripts.