Confession: I have never been inside a confessional booth. I grew up in a church where doing so was not part of our spiritual practice. I am at a temple where there is one. I am writing this blog post while sitting inside it. Not intended, but in order to see I brought a small, but bright LED light. It is casting such a white glow I think it scared a couple checking out the temple.
Here I sit, in this small, wooden structure. It smells old, musty, perhaps from tears soaking the carpeted board beneath my feet. There is carpet on the walls as well. I guess to absorb the sound, but aren’t confessions meant to be heard?
I think there is also supposed to be a man in the booth next door. A man to hear my sins? My wrong doing? What if he is actually a newspaper reporter? Wait, when Jesus died on the cross, didn’t his selfless act of love cut out the middle man? After all, the veil in the temple was ripped from top to bottom. The veil that once separated man from God. Now Jesus is our High Priest.
I guess while I am in here I might as well start talking. Heavenly Father bless me. It has been 23 minutes since my last confession. You remember. Oh, you don’t? Then maybe I should choose to forget it also.
Now, I confess all my sins. The ones that denied you, dissatisfied you, destroyed me and demolished others. The sins that dishonored you, discomforted you. The ones that would disqualify me from your presence, if it were not for your Son. The sins that diminished others, disgruntled my employers, and devalued my wife and children. And don’t forget the one that deflowered me before I was with the proper one at the proper time. The ones that delayed me from being obedient unto you and your plans. I also confess the times I digested things that defiled my body, your temple. The words I spoke that derailed others on track to finding you. The times my actions denounced you. The sins that I allowed that wound up discouraging me and damaging my faith.
Forgive me Father. I ask for your mercy and grace. Thank you for not deleting my name from your Book of Life. Thank you for forgiveness, and for your Son, Jesus who gives life through his death.
Now what do I do Lord God? “Go and sin no more.”
Copyright © 2018 Mark Brady, All rights reserved
I was sitting in a church admiring the grandeur, the architecture. Then, I opened my Bible to a random spot.
they worship me from their soft, warm, living hearts. They feel their good deeds achieve tally marks on a chalk board by my chair. I would rather the receivers of those deeds feel me. They step into a dark, small closet to confess their sins. I say confess them loudly from your roof tops, so you are less likely to repeat them.
HER CHAIR: “Hi. How are you?” I stood, holding open the door to the bank.
A somber event took place in front of me. The reality is this; for a man, using his own reasoning, which is limited, nothing could satisfy him. No proof would be enough. Everything God might do, or has done, to prove his own existence, some men would reason it away, and have. It’s as if they try to make God conform to their rules of existence, and that’s just not going to happen.
Old Testament time: Mankind was given “time” by God. He created light, and separated it from dark. He called the light “day”, and the dark “night”. That was day one. (Gen. 1:3-5) Pastor Robert Morris says, time gives us stability, and rhythm to life. During eternity, there will be no need for time. Jesus operates in a whole different realm than we do. He is not bound by time. He can go back in time, and forward in time, in no time.
What do you charge for your LOVE? Is that by the ounce, gallon, hour, or some other form of measurement? Do people, or your family, feel you can’t be bothered? Your friends never ask for a favor, because they know you won’t help for whatever convenient excuse you flip to in your “excuse Rolodex”? LOVE is more than words. It is action. It does. It does whatever it takes. It does, whatever it can, for others.
My favorite part, of Jesus’ death on the cross is this; the very moment he exhaled his last breath the thick, tall, heavy curtain that separated man, from the Holy of Holies was torn from top to bottom. It’s my favorite part, because now, we have direct access to God’s presence.
It happened again. The explosive temper from one I am supposed to love, and I do, but the pain. I left their presence, but I was a “walking wounded”. I kept rewinding the scene and playing it over and over in my mind. Why? This didn’t need to happen. I begin seeking comfort.
brady, mark a. 