Catholicism is a faith of signs. We are steeped in a rich tradition of sacraments, those holy expressions of earthly realities that allow us to touch the eternal and discover grace. In Baptism, we are bathed in the waters that cleanse us from sin. At the Communion table, we taste our redemption as we receive the Body and Blood of the One who surrendered his life at the cross. In the Confessional, we are comforted by the spoken words of absolution that cover our declaration of guilt before a perfect and holy God.
The events of 2020-21 with its social isolation and virtual worship made me painfully aware of my deep inner longing for the sacraments. My hunger for these sacred signs have pushed me again and again out from the safety of my home and into the outdoors where the open space and the freedom to wander have revealed to my heart what is truly precious though lately lacking in my life. In spending more time in the wilderness, I have been inwardly broken with visions of what it means to be a sacramental believer, deeply connected to the Savior through these beautiful mysteries of love.
An Unfolding Parable of Grace
On one of these wilderness wanderings, I found my heart heavy with the sins of self-indulgence that come when isolation leads to laziness and self-pity. As I traveled up and down the trails before me, I felt my transgressions weighing me down beyond what I could bear. I wanted to leave my iniquities by the wayside, to shed them like the unwanted burdens they were, yet their familiarity made it hard to let them go.
As I attempted to share my sins with the Lord, my mind began to wander into the realms of excuses and false justifications. Still, such absurd self-deception made me painfully aware of my need for God’s mercy and grace. In my heart I called out for a Confessor, angry that I was unable to spend time in that quiet little reconciliation room acknowledging my sins. From my inner longing and desperate imagination, a parable began to unfold.
Finding the Fisher of Men
In my mind I suddenly came upon a mysterious man on the trail, sitting off to the side, a fishing rod set out before him. I envisioned a simple conversation taking place, moving me to where I could address the emptiness that hollowed out my soul.
I asked him why he had a fishing rod in a place where there was no water. He told me that he living out his calling and that there were other things to catch besides fish. I certainly felt like a floundering fish, fighting against the tug of God’s lifeline pulling me out of the depths of my drowning faith. So I took the bait and sat to listen to this fisher of men, conscious of my need of rescue from the waves of my own distress and despair.
The Essence of a True Confession
I knew my theology – that I could come boldly before the throne of grace to find forgiveness in true repentance. But that was the issue. In my forced isolation, it was too easy simply to hide the true nature of my sins, to explain them away, and to mitigate their seriousness by pointing to the dire circumstances of the current situation. After all, it was not my fault I could not get to Confession, so God should understand that I was temporarily caught up in a wave of bad behavior that had been pushed upon me by unreasonable trials.
I found myself wanting to resist opening up to this imaginary Confessor. What right did he have to my inner world? Yet when I thought about it, I realized the truth. My true Confessor in heaven had every right to my full submission and my honest admission of every fault and failure that stood against the holy will of my good God. I needed to make a deep and sweeping self-examination of my soul, to come clean with my sins, and to empty out every transgression with complete transparency and sorrowful contrition before the throne of grace, if I was ever to find reconciliation and peace.
A Gentle Answer for Tears Shed in Truth
Like the Woman at the Well, I began my confession slowly and in stages, testing this mysterious Confessor in the woods to see how he would handle my story. But as I saw, he already knew me better than I knew myself. He listened with understanding, his eyes showing his acceptance and love. He responded to my words with penetrating questions and gentle reminders of eternal truths. In the shelter of the shadows within these woods, I felt surrounded and upheld. I no longer had any desire to hide the truth of every unthoughtful word and sinful action as I stood before the One who knew every word before I spoke it.
My Confessor was patient as I continued to come to terms with the wrongs I had done. Instead of a checklist of sins, I poured out my heart in tears, telling the whole story, moving past the shame and the fear to speak the unpleasant and uncomfortable words as every wrong was put on display before the One who could reconcile me to heaven and to all the believers from whom I was separated both in body and spirit.
The Power to Forgive, the Assurance of Freedom
And then my mysterious Confessor called me to rise and continue my journey along the path up a steep and rocky hill, carrying my selfishness and sins up to the top of a high summit, where I could look out upon the landscape of my life from a new vantage point. There, at the place where exhaustion and exhilaration came together in a moment of reconciliation, I saw the God-man hanging upon his cross, bleeding and dying for every sin of mine that had been nailed to that holy tree.
In the beauty and wonder of my forgiveness I found myself sharing a spontaneous prayer of contrition, truly conscious of the hurt my sin had brought to the Son of Man, and truly sorry that I had been so blind to the great offense that had crushed the One who had loved me to the last. In that holy instant, I felt myself absolved of my sin, truly forgiven and set free by perfect love, and fully reconciled to heaven and earth.
Anticipating the Next Time I May Receive
As I descended from the mountaintop of my vision, following the path down the trail and back to where I first began my journey, I thought about the lessons I had learned. I discovered a new appreciation for the sacraments and their power to connect us to the heavenly realms. I found joy in the beating of my own heart in anticipation of the time when I would experience in both body and soul a good sacramental confession once more. I knew I would have a different story to tell my earthly Confessor when once again we sat down to share in the great sign of reconciliation. I knew also how sweet would be the taste of the Bread of Life and the Challis of Salvation, when I could again approach the table to receive.
What a gift we have been given in the sacraments and how deeply we should struggle in our souls until we receive them once again. Though we have lived through times of separation from the signs of our salvation, we must never believe that our Savior is so far away that we cannot come to him to seek his grace, his comfort, and his wisdom. As we continue to walk the road through our current trials, seeking the face of Christ and longing for his sacraments, may this simple parable of reconciliation inspire us to open our hearts to God’s grace, to surrender to the Savior of our souls, and to rest in the joy that is ours through the cross of Christ!