confession Archives - Looking Up

Summer can be a weedy time, and not just for the garden. Many of us feel like we’re “supposed” to be vacationing and having beautiful Instagram moments, but the bills are still coming, our questions and struggles are still present, our relationships and our souls need care. We may feel buried by demand, whether real or imagined. It may be hard to bear spiritual fruit if the weeds of anxiety or distraction are choking out our energy and capacity to have a conscious life with God.

My friend Joey, who is a serious golfer, told me that the challenge of being buried out in the high grass or “fesk” as he calls it (short for fescue grass) is not just about getting your ball out or taking the penalty stroke. The hardest part is the acceptance of where you’re at (temporarily lost or set back) and the mental resolve to stay in the game after your confidence has taken a hit.

Jesus told a story about a son who was in the weeds for awhile. He asked for his inheritance early and went out to establish himself in a distant land. He wanted to get out from under the influence of his father, it seems, and ended up enslaved to the influence of his own desires. When the money was gone and the party friends disappeared, he found himself in the humiliating circumstance of not even being able to care for himself. He took a humiliating job (feeding pigs) and realized that the servants in his father’s house were better off than he was. They had more belonging and more purpose, as well as a better shot at survival. He decided to go home and confess his foolishness to his father and ask for mercy. Maybe he could just get a job on the family farm like the other servants.

His father’s heart must have been on the horizon the whole time, because when he saw his son stumbling toward home in the distance, he ran out to embrace him. I can imagine the depth of knowing and understanding in that embrace. There was no way the father would allow him to work as a servant; they were family. Owners of the estate together. There was no need for shaming or punishing lectures. The son had suffered at his own hands to discover who he is really is: beloved child, an heir, a partner. The father surrounds him with honor and throws a big party to express his love.

This story could be everyone’s truest story, and for most of us it’s on repeat. Because unlike Jordan Spieth, most of us do spend time in the weeds. Confession and repentance is better as a daily practice than a one-time salvific experience. As we find ourselves trying to muscle it out in the distant land of independence, it is important to be aware of when we feel depleted, because we are important. The moment with the pigs is a good one if we can see what’s going on and remember that we have a Savior who parents us into partnership. We are not the losers we we think we are, even if we have been squandering our inheritance. We are beloved offspring of an eternal God who want to give us the kingdom, even in our most needy moments.

If you’re trying to come home from the demands of independence, it may help to do something different: make the meeting, join the cell, call a friend who has faith, gather a compassion team or other project that requires God to even get off the ground. You could also start with something as simple as a “help me Jesus” prayer. If you’re looking for a regular, heart-to-heart way to connect with God, the old Ignatian prayer practice below might be useful in the turning toward home—the reality of God’s recreative work in all things, and especially in you, his beloved daughter or son. Like in golf, we often need help accepting that we’re in the weeds along with encouragement to stay in the game and turn in the direction that God is leading.

The Daily Examen

1. Quiet yourself and recall that you are in the presence of God.

2. Ask God to assist you in making the examination. (Yes, it’s hard to pray but God will meet our capacity.)

3. Think about your day with attention to your emotion. Ask where God might have been present in the sights, sounds, sensations and events of your day (moments of consolation.) Hold them for a moment with gratitude. You may want to choose one that seems worth exploring further.

4. Consider where you may have turned away from God’s desires for you in your choices or actions (moments of desolation.)

5. Confess to God and pray to use this insight as you move forward.

Lent is coming. There is nothing particularly holy about observing Lent; it is simply another good opportunity to connect with Jesus and his mission. Right on the cusp of his main work, Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness where he fasted for 40 days and was tempted to give up his mission for power, wealth, and comfort. He resisted, and came back into town filled with the Spirit and willing to be obedient unto death.

In solidarity with Jesus, some of us will try to fast from shadowy forms of power/wealth/comfort or other distractions tomorrow in order to make more room for the Spirit to fill us. It is not easy and we try not to worry too much about success. We are just trying to be faithful and reach for more of God and less of what might weigh us down. We are confessing that we are affected by sin and longing to be made whole. We are trying to repent, or turn around, and come home to God, the Heart of our own heart. We will take the sign of the cross in ashes and remember that we belong to God like beloved children. Fasting doesn’t make us holy in any form (Jesus already has), but it can loosen us up and free us to get into the flow of redemption with God in a deeper and more expansive way. By doing Lent together as a community—on whatever level we are able to engage—we open ourselves up to transformation and healing that can ripple outward beyond us.

In many ways, what will happen this year is up to us. One time before Jesus healed a paralyzed man, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?” It seems like a rather obvious question with an obvious answer, especially to someone who has been suffering for a long time—38 years, in this case. Jesus isn’t one to waste words, so why does he ask such an obvious question? Maybe because it is not that obvious, particularly in the spiritual realm. We cling to our sin-sickness at times for various reasons. Here’s three ideas from this story.

1. We do not regard Jesus as a possible healer. Instead of saying Yes! to Jesus’s question, the man in the story dives into an explanation about the curative properties of the pool he’s laying next to. He thinks his problem is that he doesn’t have the help he needs to get into the pool at the right time. He has a formula for his healing that’s just not working, yet. If only he can get it right, he thinks! He has no idea that he is talking to the healer himself.

2. We are “comfortable” in our mess. I like this painting because Jesus is peeking under the tent the man is hiding in. We might be prone to creating isolating fortresses around ourselves in our sicknesses too. It may be dark in there but at least we know what to expect. We’d like to maintain some illusion of control and reduce anxiety-inducing surprises or shame-inducing exposure. Lent is a good time to discover that Jesus in our Circle of Hope is a great initiator of the Light that reveals that no mess is too messy.

3. We think we have to have incredible faith to do anything different. I love this story because there is no mention of great faith in the man who is healed. He doesn’t even know Jesus’s name. He just needs some help and he’s willing to have a conversation. When Jesus tells him to get up, pick up his mat (a sign that his healing is complete) and walk, he listens. The story suggests that our healing is more about God’s love and power than about our spiritual capacity to initiate it or drum it up. Maybe we are invited into a conversation with God that will lead us to new places of freedom.

My prayer this Lent is simply for our showing up in that conversation, in that core relationship. I don’t know what will happen or not happen. But I do know that the Holy Spirit does the heaving lifting in our transformation, with just our tiny bits of willingness. Our hunger and thirst and longing helps, if we are wise enough to notice it. It is not our wellness and independence that will help us get into our resurrection this Easter; it is our confession of need and desire for more. We can follow the example of Jesus to be emptied of all but love. Like CS Lewis said, ““Our desires are not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” If you are displeased at all, you may be in a good position to meet God and get into something new.

confession

Getting out of the weeds

Do you want to get well?

About Rachel

Subscribe to My Blog via Email

Follow Me & Circle of Hope

Search