Journey to Confession. Last year, I purchased a pair of expensive tennis shoes for my son. My son could not wait to show off his new sneakers to all of his friends. He explained his new shoes were inspired by NASA (The National Aeronautics and Space Administration) Technology and would make him faster on the basketball court [wonder if he would be faster in taking out the trash]. He explained the shoe string device, which would keep his shoes tied. My son’s favorite basketball player had worn the same shoe in the National Basketball Association (NBA) Finals.
My son is very responsible. I explained that his sneakers, would have to last the whole school year. He developed a ritual (plan of action). He would wear his sneaker on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Tuesday and Thursday, he wore scandals. On Saturday, he would clean his sneakers.
During the last two months of the school year, his sneaker’s newness had worn off. I was anticipating a request for another popular new brand of shoe. The request did not come. My son purchased some shoe cleaner and dye. The pride he had in his sneakers, made me want to purchase a new pair. I did not.
The journey to confession is similar to my son’s experience. When I was a young teenager, I completed my First Communion. I would be introduce to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. I was excited to confess my sins. My parents gave me instruction. How to hold my hands? Where my eyes should be directed? What tone should I speak in? I purged all my sins to my confessor. I felt relief and exhausted. I would go to confessions bi-weekly, but this process would end, when confession became my prayer line to God. I was advised to create a prayer or quiet time to spend with the Lord. Soon the newness of confession would wear off and my visits came less and less.
Twenty-five years later (and after maybe five or six confessions), my son was completing his First Confirmation. At the First Confirmation Mass, I went to confession. The newness was back. I had kept my soul clean, by attending Mass on a regular basis. I tithed faithfully, I volunteer weekly for our Parish. At confession, I remembered my parent’s instruction. I asked for forgiveness for my lack of confessions. I spoke softly to my confessor and the newness came back. Confession was like my son taking care of his prized sneakers.
Journey to Confession.