Killer Confessions

Last week, we learned that in order to kill vampires – the secret sins that leach life from our souls – we have to drag them into the light. Not only do they hate the light, they can’t survive in it. The preferred method for vanquishing vampires is confession. But we left an important question unanswered: how do you actually confess?

The Bible does not specify a particular way of unburdening your soul. But I have heard quite a few confessions through the years and, being an experienced sinner, have made some mighty big ones myself. Here are some things I think lead to a more lethal (to your vampire) confession.

Confess Up, Not Down

When you are convicted to confront your vampire, you may be tempted to confess to someone you perceive to be less than your spiritual equal. That way, you don’t disappoint someone whose esteem you fear losing, plus you get the added benefit of looking like a hero to your fellow struggler. Confession becomes just one more way to make you seem better than you are.

Been there. Done that. Doesn’t cut it.

Go to someone you respect – and whose respect you value – and tell your sin to them. Not only will they be in a position to offer wise counsel, the mercy they extend will mean more to you.

Gender Matters

When you are hiding a secret, you can never be sure whether people love you as you really are. You have not given them the opportunity to decide. The you they love is not the authentic you. They love the image you project, the mask behind which you hide. Confession gives them the chance to love you as you are. And when they see your secrets and love you anyway, a deep emotional connection is created. That’s an awesome thing; a moment of intense vulnerability. Which is why men should confess to another man, women to another woman.

Be Boring

Every book ever written on writing, probably, contains this maxim: show, don’t tell. For example:

John was angry.

That’s telling. It’s clear, concise and utterly boring.

Then there’s this:

John’s face flushed. His nostrils flared and beads of sweat popped up on his forehead. He looked for all the world like he had just spiked a fever – until he stood up so abruptly the chair he’d been sitting in skittered across the floor and crashed into the wall. On his way out of the room, he slammed the door with such force the frame splintered.   

That’s showing. It draws you into the scene and invites you to paint a picture, to make a mind movie. It’s what makes for good writing.

And bad confessions. With confession, you want to tell. Not show. When old friends get together, it isn’t long before someone says, “Hey, remember when . . .,” and then they relate in remarkable (and often embellished) detail an adventure from the past. Everyone experiences the hilarity, suspense or joy of that event all over again. Why do we enjoy those stories so much? Because we are, in a very real sense, reliving that moment. It’s the same with confession. If the story of our failure is too graphic, elaborate or colorful, we aren’t confessing – we’re bragging.

Be Transparent

The flipside of being too vivid, though, is being too vague. It isn’t enough just to tell someone, “I’m struggling with sin.” Congratulations. You’re human. Confession requires us to be more transparent than that. And it’s possible to be specific without being graphic.

In Psalm 51:3, David said, “For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me.” That sounds like David had spent some time thinking about his sin – what it was, where it came from, why he was susceptible to it. He took what my friends in recovery call a searching and fearless moral inventory.

Before you try to drag them into the light, get to know your vampires.

What are their names? Pride? Lust? Greed?

How do they manifest in your life? Putting others down? Inappropriate internet activity? Irresponsible spending? Think about the root of your sin, then the fruit of your sin. Then, when it’s time to confess, you can be transparent without being tawdry.

Don’t Spin the Sin

In the Garden, when God confronted Adam with his sin, Adam blamed Eve and implicated God; “The woman you gave me.” Eve’s defense was, basically, “The devil made me do it.” Ironically, the only one who didn’t try to spin the sin was the serpent.

In contrast, when the prophet Nathan confronted David, David took responsibility: “I have sinned against the Lord.” He didn’t blame Bathsheba. He didn’t try to justify his decisions. Or minimize his sin. Or excuse his behavior. He owned it. In Psalm 51, he called his failures, “my transgressions . . . my iniquity . . . my sin.”

It is really hard to admit to yourself that you have failed. It is even harder to admit your sin to another person. But the hardest thing of all is trying to live with a secret. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, again, wrote, “What happened to us in baptism is bestowed upon us anew in confession. We are delivered out of darkness into the kingdom of Jesus Christ.” Amen

Your Turn

If you have suggestions for confession that might help our little community, please share them in the comments section below.