Then he (Jesus) told this story to some who boasted of their virtue and scorned everyone else:
“Two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a proud, self-righteous Pharisee, and the other a cheating tax collector. The proud Pharisee ‘prayed’ this prayer: ‘Thank God, I am not a sinner like everyone else, especially that tax collector over there! For I never cheat, I don’t commit adultery, I go without food twice a week, and I give to God a tenth of everything I earn.’
“But the corrupt tax collector stood at a distance and dared not even lift his eyes to heaven as he prayed, but beat upon his chest in sorrow, exclaiming, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner.’ I tell you, this sinner, not the Pharisee, returned home forgiven! For the proud shall be humbled, but the humble shall be honored.”
(Luke 189-14, Living Bible)
Recently I was asking a friend who found a new church home about what drew them there, and she said, among other things that “It was the only church could find that offered me the gift of confession.” I’ve been thinking about her phrase “the gift of confession”. It doesn’t capture the way I usually think about that word or process — you know, of “coming clean”, of getting honest with the Living God about my living days and broken ways. And then I reflect on these words:
“Remember that our Lord Jesus can sympathize with us in our weaknesses, since in every respect he was tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with boldness approach the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:15-16)
How I need mercy and grace! Though sometimes I lose sight of these when I lose touch with my own frailty and opt instead for the delusion of self-righteousness, that old, primal temptation given to humanity way back in the garden of eden: “You will not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” What a delusion, and what a temptation still.
I think I need a daily time out to start over again with this God of mercy and grace, who I’m told is not waiting with anger but filled with what Israel calls “Hesed”, that is, steadfast love, with mercy and grace in the moment when I desperately need just such. The trick is that grace is only my experience when I’m up front and honest about my need for it, and why. And here is where my honest confession to God becomes a gift. I can begin again with a clean heart and mind, with a new chance to love up and out; I can renew the day with a lightened burden in the presence of the risen Christ who bids me to come and find rest.
Maybe that gets a little bit at what my friend meant when she talked about “The Gift of Confession”. Maybe honest confession, though not easy, though often painful and embarrassing, really is good for our souls. For we come home even in our sins to the One who has loved us with an everlasting love, and whose grace to begin again is always abundantly flowing like a rushing summer river.
I think the prayer of the tax collector is a gift too, because it’s short and sweet and easy to own: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” It’s easy to repeat with the cadence of every breath, a constant plea, an unburdening of sorrow, an expression all at one time of utter despair and trust in the One who I know loves me. I can fill in the blanks, I can find the details in my secret heart. And in this honest confession I find again and again a word of release, and a lightened burden, and surprisingly, a distinct sense that all is well again.
A daily time out is what I need, to come back home to God’s grace and mercy in my time of need. How about you?
Peter Hawkinson
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