One of the most challenging disciplines in all of Christendom is, when practiced, perhaps also the discipline that offers the deepest change: confession. Unfortunately, there is a tragedy about this aspect of our faith; that although it is a practice so freely open to us, there’s something about it that leads us to destroy, not build, intimacy with God.
Admitting you’re wrong is probably the hardest thing in the world to do, but it’s something that furnishes real change in our lives, if it’s sincere. Just as importantly, confession is an invitation of truth to inform your life. Over and over in the Bible you see the knowledge and life of God in our lives compared to light and darkness. John says that “Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed” (John 3:19); Jesus calls himself the “light of the world” and promises that those who follow him will “never walk in darkness” (John 8:12); Paul laments to the Corinthians that “the god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ” (2 Cor. 4:4); Peter refers to knowledge of God as a “morning star” that rises in our hearts, and in the same book declares that God “called us out of darkness and into his wonderful light.” You see references to light in Proverbs, the gospels, Acts, Romans, both Corinthians, Ephesians, Colossians, 1 Thessalonians, and numerous other books in the Bible. So we find in the Bible this theme of light penetrating our lives to give us a knowledge that we didn’t have before. The problem is, though, that it’s much easier to hide in the darkness of fear and denial than it is to face yourself squarely and admit you’re wrong.
Sometimes, though, you're only willing to admit you're wrong when you're the most in need. I remember reaching a point in my life when I felt so incapable of helping myself and so out of control that my only recourse was to seek help from others, be it from God or other people. It was only after finally approaching myself with a willingness to change and pliability that I began to experience the process of healing. It happened twice: once when I was seventeen, and the other at nineteen. This truly is the power of confession: not simply an admission of need, but a giving up of sorts (paraphrasing C.S. Lewis), an opening of the gates so that you might be led back into the place you know you need to be. Thanks for reading.
Admitting you’re wrong is probably the hardest thing in the world to do, but it’s something that furnishes real change in our lives, if it’s sincere. Just as importantly, confession is an invitation of truth to inform your life. Over and over in the Bible you see the knowledge and life of God in our lives compared to light and darkness. John says that “Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed” (John 3:19); Jesus calls himself the “light of the world” and promises that those who follow him will “never walk in darkness” (John 8:12); Paul laments to the Corinthians that “the god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ” (2 Cor. 4:4); Peter refers to knowledge of God as a “morning star” that rises in our hearts, and in the same book declares that God “called us out of darkness and into his wonderful light.” You see references to light in Proverbs, the gospels, Acts, Romans, both Corinthians, Ephesians, Colossians, 1 Thessalonians, and numerous other books in the Bible. So we find in the Bible this theme of light penetrating our lives to give us a knowledge that we didn’t have before. The problem is, though, that it’s much easier to hide in the darkness of fear and denial than it is to face yourself squarely and admit you’re wrong.
Sometimes, though, you're only willing to admit you're wrong when you're the most in need. I remember reaching a point in my life when I felt so incapable of helping myself and so out of control that my only recourse was to seek help from others, be it from God or other people. It was only after finally approaching myself with a willingness to change and pliability that I began to experience the process of healing. It happened twice: once when I was seventeen, and the other at nineteen. This truly is the power of confession: not simply an admission of need, but a giving up of sorts (paraphrasing C.S. Lewis), an opening of the gates so that you might be led back into the place you know you need to be. Thanks for reading.
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