iConfession?
“In the life of the body a man is sometimes sick, and unless he takes medicine, he will die. Even so in the spiritual life a man is sick on account of sin. For that reason he needs medicine so that he may be restored to health; and this grace is bestowed in the Sacrament of Penance.” – Thomas Aquinas, quoted in “Confession- a Roman Catholic App for iPhone”
There’s a lot of press and talk about the new iPhone app, “Confession.” It was developed by a priest and even approved by the Vatican. It is supposed to be an aid to confession, not a substitute for the confession booth.
When it comes to confessing our sins, we Protestants, Evangelicals in particular, have no standing from which to criticize Catholics. Our own attempts to guide believers into regular confession are spotty, generic or nonexistent. Our music is lacking of songs that usher a penitent believer humbly into the presence of Holy God. I can’t think of any songs that employ any language like Isaiah’s whose response to God’s holiness was, “Woe to me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.” (Isaiah 6:5)
We often recite James 5:15: “Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray…” and we follow the command to pray for those who are sick. But we stop short of the next verse, which says, “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed…”
In our more traditional worship service, we read a prayer of confession. It’s general – it’s written by someone who doesn’t know me so that it works for everyone. Not that it doesn’t apply. One such prayer said, “forgive us our sins, known and unknown,” – I have both kinds. “Things we have done and things we have failed to do,” – again, I’ve done plenty of each kind. But the written prayers seldom nail me with my particular sin that wakes me up early and shakes my confidence. Shouldn’t my prayer of confession say something about my refusal to answer the phone when I’m too lazy to get up off the couch? Or my channel-surfing late at night in the slim hope that I can find some cheap substitute for intimacy?
We’re missing out when we avoid confession. We’re missing out on the cleansing feeling that comes from having someone hear us as we admit that we have let God down. We miss out on the sense of release as we are freed from a captivity that is strengthened by secrecy, but crumbles in the light of confession. We miss out on hearing from the same person who heard our most heinous thoughts and actions, “you are forgiven.” Most of all, we miss out on experiencing God’s grace. As theologian Karl Barth said – and I am paraphrasing – from memory, “our fancied escape from sin is actually an escape from grace.”
We have sinned – in very general ways and very specifically. In our lifetime and today. In unimaginably boring ways and, sometimes, with creativity.
Lent is a season when we are encouraged to revive the healing power of confession and pardon. We get it wrong if we trudge through ashen days of self denial and depression. For some, it seems that Lent is a spiritual excuse for a 50-day pity party. We confess our sins – deliberately, specifically, to real people – so we can re-experience God’s grace, the joyful grace in which we are to live each day.
I have no criticism of this Confession App. In fact, I admire this attempt to integrate Biblical teaching with digital technology. I found the app helpful. But, it is not satisfying. It’s not intended to be. There are no words of pardon, no absolution. I guess an iPhone can’t provide that. Only God can forgive. And only a grace-filled believer can offer the words of hope in real life, and real time, “Yes, you have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory. By God’s grace, you are forgiven.”
So, whether it’s a booth with a priest or a Bible study group, a friend, brother or a 12-step group, get to confession.
This is my Ash Wednesday Meditation, On Confession of Sins. You’re welcome to leave a comment, response or confession.