Breaking the Silence

The Forgotten Gift of Confession: a guest post by Meshach Kanyion

Every so often, I look for new blogs to read. I like learning from others and seeing how they engage God’s Word and the world. One blogger I have enjoyed is Meschach Kanyion. Meschach is a pastor pursuing a doctorate in theology (a dream I have… someday, Lord willing), and I’m sure you’ll benefit from his writing. I asked Meschach to author a guest post for my blog this summer, and you’ll find it below. Enjoy!

---

From Meshach — I am grateful for the opportunity to post on Kingdom Glimpses. As a preacher and writer, I know how protective we can become of our platforms, whether pulpit or Substack. Thank you for your trust, Rev. Andy Fuqua.

Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. — James 5:16

A few weeks ago, while meeting with the people responsible for my annual review, I had an interesting conversation about confession.

The review process required me to complete a self-assessment, which we would then review together. When we got to the part that asked me to rate myself on a scale of 1 to 5 — why do they always add, “1 being the least, 5 being the greatest”? We know how it works! — I responded to this statement: “I have people in my life who help hold me accountable for remaining spiritually, emotionally, financially, and physically healthy.”

They were delighted to see that I circled 5, but then they were confused when they looked at the explanation, where I wrote, “I meet with my Band once a week.”

“I didn’t know you were in a band,” one of the reviewers said. Then she asked, “What instrument do you play, and how does that help you spiritually, emotionally, financially, and physically?”

I’m used to this reaction; indeed, I’m intentionally unclear when I mention my Band so that I can explain what it is. It is not a band for music but a Band in the Wesleyan tradition—a small group of men or women who meet and answer these questions:

1. What known sins have you committed since our last meeting?

2. What temptations have you encountered? And how were you delivered?

3. What have you thought, said, or done of which you doubt whether it is a sin?

4. Do you have anything you desire to keep secret?

After explaining this, one of my reviewers asked, with a sense of righteous indignation on my behalf, “They make pastors do that!?”

The alarm shifted to confusion when I told them I did it willingly. I could tell they were wondering the same thing I asked when I cautiously said yes to the invitation six years ago: “Why would anyone share shameful and embarrassing things? What if they told someone else? What if they looked at me differently?”

I’ve realized that our culture has malformed us into people who despise confession that requires vulnerability. Even in our worship services, our corporate confessions cover generalities.

Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry, and we humbly repent. For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us; that we may delight in your will and walk in your ways, to the glory of your Name. Amen.

This is good for corporate settings, but in many cases, it’s all the confessing that people do, except for those private ones they send to God (more on this later). Our souls also long to name specific things we’ve done—not only to God but to a sister or brother who functions as one through whom the forgiveness of God can be announced to us.

Confession is more than just a therapeutic release; it is a participation in the reality of God’s Kingdom, where truth and transparency lead to union and genuine transformation. Confession is an act of aligning oneself with the Truth, the very truth that sets us free.

In Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer observes our tendency to confess to God while avoiding confession to a sister or brother. It’s a lengthy quote, but well worth the read:

“Why is it that it is often easier for us to confess our sins to God than to a brother? God is holy and sinless; He is a just judge of evil and the enemy of all disobedience. But a brother is sinful as we are. He knows from his own experience the dark night of secret sin. Why should we not find it easier to go to a brother than to the holy God? But if we do, we must ask ourselves whether we have not often been deceiving ourselves with our confession of sin to God, whether we have not rather been confessing our sins to ourselves and also granting ourselves absolution. And is not the reason perhaps for our countless relapses and the feebleness of our Christian obedience to be found precisely in the fact that we are living on self-forgiveness and not real forgiveness? Self-forgiveness can never lead to a breach with sin; this can be accomplished only by the judging and pardoning Word of God itself… A man who confesses his sins in the presence of a brother knows that he is no longer alone with himself; he experiences the presence of God in the reality of the other person.”

Definitely worth the read, am I right?

When I first joined the band, I felt this hesitancy to confess to a brother I could see, but something I could only describe as supernatural happened when I finished confessing. They laid their hands on me while one of them prayed; after his prayer, he absolved me, saying, “In the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven.” I am not prone to exaggeration, but in that moment, I felt… lightened. It’s the feeling hikers have when they set down their packs after a long hike. I feel that every single time I hear the absolution.

That feeling isn’t required, but it points to the reality of God’s incarnational way of working. As our sin is dragged into the open through confession, God’s grace is present through his children to abolish it, sending it into that sea of forgetfulness. But the grace does not just forgive; through the work of the Holy Spirit, it transforms. See, confession is not just about feeling better; it’s about God’s grace actively working in our lives through a community of believers who are also being transformed.

This means pushing back against our fears of vulnerability and leaning into what we secretly long for.

Yes, we long to confess and rid ourselves of that putrid stench. Matthew McConaughey’s character, Rust, in “True Detective,” was known for getting confessions out of people. When asked how he did it, here was his response:

“Look—everybody knows there’s something wrong with them. They just don’t know what it is. Everybody wants confession; everybody wants some cathartic narrative for it. The guilty especially. And everybody’s guilty.”

Precisely. Therefore, we, especially the people of God, should cherish confession, regarding it as a gift that recalibrates our hearts toward God. Admittedly, it has been underutilized or partially utilized, but it remains there as a means of healing that many long for, even if they don’t know it is the antidote they need.

We must cultivate a heart of humility and openness to overcome this cultural resistance to confession. We must recognize that autonomy and self-sufficiency, our cultural values, are barriers to the deeper life Christ calls us into. We need to create courageous (not safe; safety is good, but insufficient), supportive environments where confession can thrive and where we can trust our brothers and sisters to hold our confessions with grace and not judgment.

Besides marriage and being a dad, I credit my Wesleyan Band as one of my life's most sanctifying means of grace. As John Wesley said, “The gospel of Christ knows of no religion, but social; no holiness but social holiness.” Confession is a communal incarnational practice rooted in the reality of God’s Kingdom, where his transforming grace meets our vulnerability.

Thank you for reading.