
As a teen, confession was described to me like throwing up. “Going to confession is a lot like throwing up,” my youth minister said, “You feel terrible beforehand, but once you get it over with you feel a lot better.” This analogy always stuck with me. It is truly a good thing that our sins make us feel bad. That sting of sin is what motivates us to find redemption in Christ. It is the sign of a well-formed conscience. If we felt nothing after we sinned, we would be in much greater trouble.
When I think about going to confession, I often feel sick. I know this may sound extreme, but in a small way I think we can all relate to some degree of anxiety about confession. It is not enjoyable to look at the darkest, most harmful thoughts and actions we have intentionally committed against an all good and all-powerful God. Meditating on them causes me sadness and anxiety, and finding the courage to go and speak them out loud in the sacrament of confession makes me feel worse.
But it still doesn’t feel good. It can be hard to find the courage to make ourselves face these things in the confessional. We have all found ways to avoid going to confession. Whether it is our busy schedules, our lack of daily examinations leading us to believe we do not need confession, or perhaps, as is often the excuse I am tempted to use, we are afraid the priest will recognize us and judge us.
The root of all these excuses is the same: they come from shame, which is rooted in a lack of understanding of God’s mercy. To use the throwing up analogy again, if we know that we are going to feel infinitely better afterwards, why are we not more eager to participate in this great sacrament? I have found in my own life and ministry that it is because we do not take the Gospel’s message to heart.
When Christ says “anyone who comes to me I will never drive away” (John 6:37) we don’t think it applies to us. When we hear the story of the Prodigal Son (aka the Merciful Father) we think it applies to everyone but us. Yet John explains so simply in his first letter “If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9).
We must work to take these words to heart. We must never delay in seeking God’s mercy, for our own sake and for the sake of those we serve. When I need courage and grace before confession I think of the incredibly brave and grace-filled women who confess their abortions on our Project Rachel retreats. I have never seen anything more beautiful than that woman’s courage before confession. Well, that’s not true, because her smile afterwards is something that captures a beauty beyond description. She becomes a new creation in that moment; and she reveals to us the exact purpose of Christ’s mercy.
His mercy comes at a cost, but we do not need to pay it alone. We do have to live with the consequences of our sin. But Christ lives there with us also. And we may still squirm when we think about facing that which we would rather keep hidden. Yet Jesus says, “The greater the misery of a soul, the greater its right to My mercy.” (St. Faustina, Diary 1182). Christ’s mercy is never ending. It is, as St. Faustina reports, an inexhaustible treasury.
Return to Christ in this great sacrament as soon as you can. Remember that the sickness and ill feelings that follow our sin are themselves a mercy. Without them we would never be motivated to be made well again.
By Emily Branscum