The Confession Booth

I was recently re-reading one of my favorite books Blue Like Jazz, and I got to chapter 11 (Confession: Coming Out of the Closet) when I read a passage that really made me think. I will give you the passage first so you can read it, then I will tell you what has been picking me in the back of my mind.

Here is some background information so you aren’t completely lost because you haven’t read the book (although I encourage you do). Don Miller is attending REED College and is a part of a very small (I think less then 10 people) Christian group. At this moment the college is hosting the annual Ren Fayre, a festival where everyone gets trashed. As Don says, “everyone gets pretty drunk and high, and some people get naked.” Their group has an idea for this festival, a confession booth.

“’Here’s the cath.’ He leaned in a little and collected his thoughts. ‘We are not actually going to accept confessions.’ We all looked at him in confusion. He continued, ’We are going to confess to them. We are going to confess that, as followers of Jesus, we have not been very loving; we have been bitter, and for that we are sorry. We will apologize for the Crusades, we will apologize for the televangelist, we will apologize for neglecting the poor and lonely, we will ask them to forgive us, and we will tell them that in our selfishness, we have misrepresented Jesus on this campus. We will tell people who come into the booth the Jesus loves them.’”

I started thinking of a million things when I read this. What would my confession be? Would anyone believe me? Would people believe the Jesus loves them? I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but I’ve had those thoughts resonating in the back of my mind. And I guess this is just a way for me to answer these questions.

My personal confession would be humble. I would probably cry to the person listening. I would realize that I wasn’t worth what many have told me I am worth. I would start with a soft “I’m Sorry.” I would go on to explain why. I’m sorry because I wasn’t the friend I should be. I wasn’t the sister who listened and paid attention like I should have. I wasn’t the granddaughter who never hurt you. I wasn’t the strong daughter who could deal with high school very well and avoid peer pressure. I wasn’t the Christian who was proud of her faith. I wasn’t the person who I wanted to be.  I was a coward. I was a poser. I was a fraud. I was a liar. I can imagine the person listening would tell me it was okay and that it wasn’t my fault. In actuality it all was.

 People don’t usually believe confessions like mine. They say I don’t “look” like that type of person. I’m to “happy” to be that person. Then they get to know me. See that I’m not lying. That everyday is a struggle not to give up and throw in the towel.  Then my confession is validated. It’s true. It then becomes hope, at the end of a dark tunnel.

I have a friend who has a hard time believing in God. Her mother told her all she had to do was believe that He was real and that He died for her. Why should she believe though? She told me that if she ever started to believe in God that he must hate her, because she had a pretty rough life.  I think that there are plenty of other people in this world who think that God would hate them. Maybe because they don’t have the best of luck. Maybe because of the things they have done. Maybe because they don’t love Him, so why should He love them back? I guess there is a million reasons someone wouldn’t believe that Jesus would love him or her. And I know I haven’t helped any of that, or even help push them in the right direction.

My spiritual confession is even more emotional than my personal one. I have pushed God away. I have not showed my faith to other. I have disobeyed. I have lied. I have cheated. I have stole. I haven’t showed people the right love. I haven’t showed them how God is good. I haven’t showed them what God can do. I haven’t let God show me what I can do. I’m in this purgatory of potential. I’ve given up on so much because I am so lazy. I have not invited people to do things because I am self-conscious and scared of what they will think in the end. And every time I think where I will go in the end, I always loose.

I guess in the end, I have more to confess than I would like. I have people who will and who won’t believe my confession.  I have helped people and I have failed them. I have loved and I have hated. I am living and I will die.

Now, what would your confession look like?

When? Now! Soon?

Today was the day that I realized how ironic God is. I don’t really know if “ironic” is the correct word to coin for how I think God works. For the past 24-36 hours I have been among my peers at a youth retreat called Mid-Winter. The weeks prior to this moment I was very nonchalant about going, slightly excited to spend the whole weekend with my best friend, to get away from reality aka my family, and to find something that I felt was missing. So I wasn’t really going for this AMAZING move of God or anything. I was going because lately I’ve needed God, and I’ll be honest, I don’t always feel him there. Whenever you feel like God isn’t there any more is the moment you start worrying.  Incase you haven’t notice, the Bible doesn’t say “DON’T PANIC” on the front cover like the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, so I was in panic mode. I was retracing every step to see what happened, where did I go wrong, what did I do? I couldn’t find anything I had done, and that was where the problem lied. I had done nothing. No youth activities. No prayer, except mealtime and bedtime prayers. No fasting. No reading the word. No anything. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I had done only one thing by doing nothing; exclude myself from God.

I’ve gone through the backstory, now onto this past weekend. I’m sitting there in Friday night service in my “dress clothes” with every other apostolic youth in the state of Ohio. It’s 8:30 and the music is just starting. Most people are excited because it’s time to get their “Jesus on.” What was in my mind? The fact my best friend had just chewed me out and told me to be nicer. I wasn’t mean to anyone, but now that I think about it I wasn’t particularly nice either. Music blaring a Jesus songs, everyone is going crazy, and all I can do is listen. Listen to the lyrics. They all where about how great God is, how truly great He is.  I guess I take Him for granted, God. I hope you don’t think bad about me, or if you’re my mother I hope you aren’t having a heart attack over what I’m saying.  But, I do. I was taking everything for granted. Music is done and the preacher gets to preaching. The crazy thing is, he wasn’t yelling all the time like most evangelist. He would whisper, drawing you into every word he was saying.  “Put Away Your Yard Stick” was his title. In a short, one sentence synapsis; don’t measure what you think God can do, he can do so much more than you can imagine. Alter call comes and the alter is flooded, but I just can’t seem to get up. I’m in awe. In awe of what? I sit there is awe of how every teenager is crying out to God like it’s their last breath. Pure beauty. I look over and see my youth group, hands on heads and united. Unity. I thought I was so distant from them all that unity for me wouldn’t come for a long time. I was wrong. Later that night, after service I was just walking with Sarah (Yay! The “best-friend” has a name), but she had to leave. Soon I was hanging out with my youth again, MY youth group. That was surprise number one from God: Unity.

Now onto today, which is Saturday. I’m running off of three and half hours of sleep, yet I’m happy. We scurry to church in the morning and make it in time for split session. Split session was very mild and not as “meaty” as other sermons. It went more with the theme of “NOW”. When can you make a change? Now. When can do something worthwhile? Now.  So split session is over and I’m just talking to friends from my church and from camp. After five or ten minutes we are ushered back into the sanctuary and the music starts again, it’s odd though.  All the songs seem to be most of MY personal favorite Christian songs.  I sing and clap, nothing showy or fancy, just God and me. The same preacher from last night comes back to the stage for his sermon, his sermon that leaves an impression. Here is the short and sweet version of it.  The title was “The Two Callings of Christ.” The first calling, if you are a Christian, you have made and accepted. It’s simply you accepting God into your life. God giving everything, while you give nothing. The second calling is complex. It’s not one thing, it can be many, and it can be few.  The second calling is just you simply giving up your flesh, you giving God everything. That’s when God gave me my second surprise. God talked to me. Not in a booming loud voice in a boisterous manner. It was more like a plea. I never thought of God as the pleading type. It was only four words, four words that broke me in that service. “Please, stop being selfish.” When I look back for the past six to seven months, I have been so selfish.  God gave me everything, everything. God has saved me multiple times, and I, for some reason I will never know, started taking him for granted. I stopped working on what I think is my calling. I stopped. I was selfish. I was not fulfilling God’s second calling.

So I’ve been sitting here on the shuttle typing this blog for an hour and half, running on three and half hours of sleep, and Sarah is sleeping on my shoulder.

I don’t know who will read this. Or who will care. I’m not by any means saying I’m the most religious or holy person in the world. I’m very far from it actually. I’m just a normal person, trying to find a way through life.

As a side not though, God loves you. Even when you think you aren’t worth much, and no one could love you, God does.

Take some time maybe, and hear the silence. 

The Best Friend