God continues to teach me about beautiful confessions.
Ever since I wrote that book, I can’t seem to stop confessing hard, ugly things. I can’t stop writing about it either. Learning to embrace confession before God has changed me–it is changing me still.
Confrontation with personal sin can feel like a sudden exile into the wilderness. My heart suddenly revealed itself to be such a pit of darkness, and I’d lived so long believing in my own disguises. I hadn’t wanted to believe the truth about where I was, and how I’d been living. I lived for years on a pedestal of my own making. The only god I really worshiped looked an awful lot like me.
It’s not that confession has suddenly become easier for me, it’s more that I’ve learned to value it in a way I didn’t before. It’s more that I understand, on a deeper, very real lever, my absolute need for it.
It turns out the admission of guilt isn’t actually the final nail in my coffin.