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?