Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re picturing a black clad, white-collared man on the other side of a confessional booth. And you hear him demanding that you confess your every sin. However, no, that is not in the slightest what I want you to picture.
What I need you to think of is a thousand pound weight sitting on your shoulders. Feel it crushing you to a pulp, bones cracking, organs screaming, heart sinking. And think about the relief felt when that weight is lifted, almost as if by magic. That is how I find the power of confession to work.
As humans we are flawed at birth. We unintentionally, for lack of a better word, sin. We have corrupt thoughts that we can’t always control. We have loose mouths that don’t always remain closed when they should. And we act on impulses that often betray us. All in all, we commit acts of wrongdoing. That is to say, we are all in need of forgiveness in some way, shape or form.
This need of forgiveness of another human beings leads us to feel regret. That regret can cause a stomach lurching, butterfly feeling which no human can live with for long. Those feelings also lead to shame and heartache. I have felt such feelings many a time.
I have committed acts of wrongdoing just as any other human has. Once I wrote an obscene word on the driveway with chalk. I was eight years old and at that age I shouldn’t have known such words existed. So the blame was placed on my older brother. I didn’t own up to it for days and those days tore me apart inside. I needed forgiveness more than anything. Knowing that an innocent had taken the rap for me was an insanely terrible feeling. After finally owning up to my actions I had that almighty feeling of weight lifting off of my shoulders. It was as if I had been bound head to toe with my own regret.
Apart from that instance, I have confessed to hundreds of accounts of wrongdoing. In my short life of 17 years, I have offended, mentally wounded and physically hurt other human beings. Though I might come across as a terrible individual, I find that others have done the same exact things to me. I myself have been offended as well as hurt mentally and physically. Just this past summer, I was accused of stealing cell phones from a car. I had indeed witnessed the event and knew the one responsible. Though in an attempt to avoid incriminating the thief I myself was blamed. To this day, that thief has not owned up to her actions. Situations like lead me to believe that we all are in need of the power of confession.
Though we haven’t always confessed to our wrongdoing, I still know that the power of confession exists. Every single time that I have confessed to my offenses I have witnessed the wonder of confession first hand. I have felt that thousand pound weight lift. And in the end I know that I don’t have to be perfect. All I have to do is believe in the power of confession and remain content in its abilities.
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