Once a week or so, I join a few Anglican clergy for morning prayers. Like many who grew up in a “low church” tradition with its relentless demands (real or perceived) for extemporaneity in prayer and worship, I have taken a sort of refuge in the solidity and predictability of the durable prayers and liturgies found in the high churches. I’m glad for a few Anglican friends who don’t mind a stray Mennonite showing up and stumbling along through forms that still feel at least somewhat foreign (and beautifully so).
One of the things that I most appreciate about morning prayers is that I am forced to confess my sins. I say “appreciate” through somewhat clenched teeth. I don’t appreciate confession like I do a beautiful mountain scene or a nice glass of wine. More like, “recognize the need for or the implications of.” Or like, “I can appreciate your (wrong) perspective on this matter.” It is a rather grudging and perhaps aspirational use of the word, I grant.
To say that confession is unpopular in our cultural context would probably be the height of understatement. We can barely be convinced that we are sinners most times, mountainous evidence to the contrary notwithstanding. It’s good to be forced to reckon with old words that illuminate realities that don’t change, no matter what we might tell ourselves.
So, each week, the familiar words:
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.
I was struck yesterday by two things near the end of this prayer.
For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, have mercy…
I listened to a truly awful sermon yesterday where the preacher was going on and on about how Jesus died for us because we were so inherently worthy of it or because he wanted us to become better versions of ourselves or some such nonsense. God does love us and we do have value, obviously. But not in the ways that we are sometimes pleased to imagine or describe it. The BCP reminds me that forgiveness is for Christ’s sake.
That we may delight in your will, and walk in your ways…
This probably falls into the “patently obvious” category, but all of the confession-worthy thoughts, words, and deeds that we do and leave undone seem to mostly boil down to delighting and walking in our ways. Which aren’t very good ways. They are ways tainted with greed and violence and lust and selfishness and apathy. They are rather easy ways to walk in. They are ways that represent the path of least resistance. It’s not hard to delight in our own ways. It’s also toxic and destructive.
So we confess our sins. We allow Christ to lead us into truer loves and better delights. And we are undone.