I have a confession [Pharisee goes Prodigal] (part 1)

[Writer's note: if you are reading this story, then it is because I have been able to count on two hands the number of people I have shared this account with, and now I am confident in Jesus the Christ/Messiah, who has forgiven all my sins, has graced me with courage and assurance to share this account to whomever reads it. To God be the glory!]

I believe there is one reason most Protestant denominations have neglected the aspect of confession... the process leading up to it HURTS.

I had to confess to my Youth Pastor of a sin I had committed against God.

This sin I committed was against God - as in I actively did it knowing God did not want me to to it... and in the process of doing it, I said, "I don't care."

After I committed the sin - this image came to mind... that I wrote in poetic form.

Deadly resolve (like an albatross)  

What actually happened (Spiritual Perspective): 

In the blackened void I stood over my Saviour. 

He lay on His back, arms spread, feet together. 

Hammer in hand, I straddled His torso;  

His face etched with betrayal and sorrow. 

He knew what my intentions were, 

He whispered my name. Smells like myrrh.  

My grin turned sinister,  

“I don’t care,” I slurred.  

Hammer collided with nail, 

blood splattered after the impale.  

Cries of agony rang out like major notes,  

maniacal laughter escaped my throat.  

Darker, yet darker; fades to black. 

Silhouettes and shadows displaying the attack.  

  

What happened (Friday Night): 

I was tired, I was upset, I was in pain; 

I wanted the emotional and physical strain to leave, 

I wanted to feel relief again. 

I turned on the laptop; 

I searched for laughter, I searched for entertainment, 

I found porn on my desktop.

I knew it was wrong, I knew what I was doing,  

but I said, “I don’t care.” 

The feelings of discomfort kept stewing. 

Pain was replaced with lust, 

it lasted during that time of viewing, 

but in the end, all I felt was disgust.  

The realization that hit was all too real,  

the deadly resolve; 

to take control of what I wanted to feel.  

I nailed my Saviour to the cross, 

when I decided to be my own God. 

Lost in a sea of blame. Like an albatross 

around my neck, shame has me in a bind. 

I feel my sins crawling on my back; 

twisting my heart, and tainting my mind. 

I have a confession: 

I have sinned against God and it affects people too;  

will you forgive me for my transgression?  

Yeah. 



In the decision to watch porn, I was doing that to Jesus. 

This pained me so badly once that scene came to mind and realized what I had done to my Saviour by doing what I wanted to do.
I have been raised in a Christian home that told me to do things based on what is good because God says so. I understood this and applied it, almost like a Pharisee.
This is the first sin I can recall that I blatantly did something that I knew God would not want me to do, but I did it anyways because I wanted what I wanted.

When I sinned, I realized I had hurt God directly in doing it... not just on a "Tsk, I should have done that, welp, moving on" level.
This was full out rebellion.
This Pharisee went Prodigal.

Thank God that He convicted me with this image that prompted me to write it out in poetry.... but, we were not done there.
I felt deep within my spirit that someone else needed to know what I had done, and repented for.

So... I went to the Youth Pastor. I knew that this sin does affect the ministry I am involved in, and if I could not be trusted after confessing, then I figured the youth pastor had the right to know and make a judgment call. I would be a hypocrite if I did not say anything... so I knew he was the first one I needed to confess to.

As I walked to the church - my body shook, my chest was heavy, and even as I asked God for strength, but part of me felt like I didn't deserve to ask God for anything after what I had done. 

As I sat in the youth pastor's office, I looked straight into his eyes as I confessed my sin, shared the poem with him, sobbed like a child... and yet... he forgave me.
He assured me that my ministry involvement would not be compromised, the fact I had confessed was assurance of my soft heart's response to the Holy Spirit's conviction.
The youth pastor also assured me that in Jesus, I have assurance of Salvation.

In that same hour with the youth pastor of confession, forgiveness, affirmation, and prayer, he and I planned together the next few weeks of youth group talks.

After I had left the church and was walking back home - my shakes were gone, and my chest felt so light, and my soul felt at ease. HOWEVER, I still was not done. 

I asked a dear friend to be my accountability partner, and after she heard my confession of sin, she mercifully said she would, and was gracious to state the lengths of help she would go to if I needed it.
At one point in the conversation she brought up the reality that Jesus stands at God's side defending me on my behalf despite my sins.
I started crying again and responded, "knowing that... despite that image of me nailing Jesus to the cross-"
My friend nodded her head, "He's still defending you. Even if you don't feel forgiven, you are."

It's so good to know that even though I messed up horribly, God and my Christian friends can find it in their hearts to forgive and even help me.

However, even though I had confessed, and was on the way of understanding God's forgiveness... I could not understand why God's wrath was not part of the equation. If God truly despises sin and rebellion, why have I not received some sort of punishment? Since February 2nd I've been wondering about this, and on February 28th, I received my answer...


(Part 2 to follow - "I have good news [This is Gospel]")


~To God be the Glory