The Blessing of Confession: An Abundance of Mercy
SUMMARY: God is merciful. That aspect of his character is accessible to us in the here-and-now, as we confess our sins and receive his loving forgiveness. In the biggest way, it was revealed in the sending of Jesus for our atonement. As Christians, confession is a privilege. As we do so, we receive incalculable mercy. As we know this mercy, we are better equipped to shine Christ’s love to the world.
THIS WRITING ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS: Why would a Christian be wise to pursue a lifestyle of confession? How can I walk in faith that I am perfectly righteous in Christ—while also acknowledging my need for continued sanctification on this side of eternity? What can I expect to receive from God when I confess my sins?
When God sent Jesus to the cross, he was simply being himself.
His love knows no bounds, and he shows compassion without an agenda. Does he long for every person to turn to him, renounce their sin, and receive his mercy? Why, yes, of course. But even this hope is wrapped up in holy love: benevolent, kind, and for the good of others.
Oh, how I want to be more like him! To be riddled with his grace. To instruct my children with a pure heart for their good—and not a tainted lean toward rigid order. How I want to encounter those who don’t know him—not with puffed-up intentions, laden with pride—but with the good news of a saving gospel, imbued with belief that these words are more than a rule to live by, but a gift to be given.
Oh, how I want to be like Jesus.
And yet, somewhere deep I know this: if I want to be like him, I have to know him as he is.
I can’t organically give a mercy that I haven’t received. I can’t pour out generosity from a godly place while harboring bitterness that really, deep down, I think God is withholding good things from me. How can one pour forth grace they’ve known?
To show him, I have to know him.
To let his love sweep into every nook and cranny of my soul. To let his light shine on the underground recesses—musty, moldy, and in need to restoration. If I want my life to be an overflow of mercy, I have to let his goodness wash over me, leaving no space unfilled.
Practically speaking, I need to confess my sins... (Woah, plot twist?)
It hit me over the course of this morning. I was chopping cucumbers for my children’s lunch, boiling with anger. There was no holiness to this temper, no stretch toward justification. Simply put, my boys were just being young boys—wrestling as they got ready for school, operating at a maturity level to be expected at their age—and yet, the “untidiness” of the morning left me agitated. More than agitated: boiling.
I let out an internal scream to God: “I am so angry right now! I just want this morning to run peacefully but it’s a mess, and I feel so frustrated!”
Marching into my children’s room to address their “behaviors”, I knew my thoughts, words, and actions weren’t lining up with the patience, grace, and benevolence God intends for me to operate with.
And that, my friend, is sin.
Missing God’s mark… that is sin.
And before you feel a little rise inside, tempted to buck that idea that your daily shortcomings require repentance, let me let you in on a little beauty:
God meets our misgivings with mercy.
Following our little snafu of immaturity, arguing, and impatience, my children and I sat down at the breakfast table and read our truth card for the day. (You have to laugh at the mixed bag of holiness that our humanity brings to the table! One second we are arguing, the next moment we are sitting down in an honest effort to know God more fully.)
The truth card for today (no. 12 if you have a pack) was this: “When we mess up, we can admit our sin to God and be forgiven.”
This truth—spoken in basic language—was undergirded by the following scripture from 1 John 1:9:
If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. 1 John 1:9 NIV
We had been munching on that passage already this week, so I thought I would take it a step further and cover the cross-reference with my children as well (found at the bottom of each truth card).
It was this proverb that really set me on a new direction for the morning:
Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy. Proverbs 28:13 NIV
So, here we were—essentially faced with two choices—hang onto our sin, or drop it and receive the mercy of God.
It can seem enticing to brush off our shortcomings, justify them, or bury them deep… but at what cost?
The cost of mercy? Eek.
That passage above from 1 John 1:9 reminds us that confession of our sins leads to forgiveness and purification. And while the theology of righteousness is lofty and multi-faceted, here are a few things I know:
We are robed in Christ’s perfect, snow-white righteousness from the moment we trust in Him, sealed for redemption. —and—
Something really special happens with our righteousness—in the right here, right now—when we confess our sins on earth.
Some have described this as the process of sanctification—being made holy, even as we journey towards our forever holiness in heaven. Or I’ve also heard it illustrated in this way: our spirits are sealed for heaven, and our souls are sanctified during our journey here on earth.
Either way you spin it, you can’t deny: confession is critical for Christlikeness! It’s a gift and a blessing to our spiritual lives!
And beyond undergoing purification and a reception of mercy, see what James 5:16 lets us in on:
Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. James 5:16 NIV
Healing follows confession.
Mercy follows confession.
Purification follows confession.
It seems to me—if I were your enemy—I’d put a lot of effort into routing people away from the practice of confession.
Because just look how good it is! And furthermore, to bring this piece full circle: when we lay our pride down low, we find ourselves face-to-face with the gaze-lifting mercy of God.
In Jesus, God has lifted our chin up and said, “Look at me. I love you.”
He neither denies the depravity of our sin, nor deprives us of his generous mercy. He sees our brokenness, and invites us to lay it at his feet. Taking its full weight upon himself. What a savior.
Mercy and justice find their cross and confession. And confession finds compassion at the cross.
God’s nature to love and provide grace for all people—even (or especially) the destitute—is culminated in Christ.
Isaiah 30:18 puts it beautifully in a plea towards Israel:
Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show you compassion. For the LORD is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him!
Mercy was always his bent. (And justice, his requirement.)
When God sent Jesus to the cross, he was simply being himself.
Passages that inspired this writing are below. For further reading:
Lamentations 3:22-23 | John 3:16-17 | Ephesians 1 | 1 John 1 | 1 John 2:6 | Matthew 5:45
