Accepting Humanity

Today, I got to spend the day with one of my best friends. While we went to high school together, it wasn't until our graduation day that we actually connected for the first time. She also happens to be a strong Catholic, so naturally having her around has been a breath of fresh air over the last few years.

As we ran around and spent time together today, we also had to stop at some point to go to Mass. We decided on her parish; ironically, it happens to be the one that my mother and her siblings were raised in.

I've not been on the top of my game lately, and to say that is really understating where I have been over the last little while. Thankfully, my prayer life is strong...there have just been some other issues that have been keeping me from fully cooperating with what God was asking of me. Put simply, if you know me, you know what this means: I had to go to Confession before Mass today.

Now this might be a little bit silly to admit, but I was completely thrilled at the prospect of getting to confess some pretty hairy stuff to someone who had never seen me before, and won't see me again so soon that he'll ever remember who I am. Score! And as I walked through the stained glass door that led to the refreshingly sunny confessional, I made a split second decision that ended up having a huge impact on my experience there.

For the first time in my entire life, I went to Confession behind the screen.

...It was really, really nice. It didn't take me long to do my business, but there was something comfortable and reassuring about getting everything out in the open behind a floor to ceiling purple drape. (I wonder if it was purple for penance, or just an interesting decorative decision.) I've always been a little bit hesitant to go behind the screen, thinking it to be a little bit of a cop out. Now, mind you, I mean absolutely no judgment to those that prefer it that way -- in fact, after doing it myself I can definitely see the appeal that it might have. It just ... personally, for me, feels a little bit like hiding and not being brave enough to truly own up to my sins by looking another man in the eye. Hey, I come from a family where testicular fortitude is a necessary and lauded personality trait. ;)

But, I digress. My litany of wince worthy sins now behind me, I exhaled deeply and waited to hear the priest's response. What he said drew an unexpected giggle out of me:

"Well, first of all, welcome to the human race."

Nice. The slight Jersey Italian accent reminded me at once of both my old confessor and my grandfather.

What I got from the good monsignor is the reminder that I've been playing games with God's mercy, and that while He's certainly used to it in all of humanity's failings, it doesn't excuse me. However, that doesn't mean I should act as if I can achieve perfection so early on the journey. He's not looking to see how many times I fall down, the priest said, but how many times I get back up again, and how quickly I endeavor to do so.

There was so much peace in that advice. It seems that I am always waiting for the next time to be the one that crosses the line, the sin that finally tries God's patience in such a grievous way that He refuses to forgive me.

Not true. Not as long as I recover from my stumbling and keep moving forward.

As my own confessor likes to remind me these days, faith and a relationship with God is my choice. He is not going to beg me to follow after Him, and He's not going to bribe me, either. He's just going to call, and wait to see how I respond.

Maybe not every answer of mine is "yes" at this point in my life. I'm working on that. But what I do know is that the number of "no" answers have been decreasing. That's my goal ... progress is everything!