Guilt, real or perceived, eats us up from the inside out. If we choose to set it aside, attempt to ignore it, compartmentalize it, or blow it off, bad things happen. Maybe not right away. And maybe not to the point where some of us truly recognize the damage, but that collision of right and wrong causes reactions in the visible and invisible.
Doing something wrong is common to all of us from the time we're told "no" and do it anyway right up until the end of our lives. Maybe we get better at minimizing our wrongdoing, but we never quite master it. Hovering around those actions of error is confession.
The crux of crucifixion presented the horrific display of what guilt warranted and how the punishment delivered a sealed proclamation that the actions which produced guilt were no longer binding. Forgiveness was issued. In full. Requirement? Confess. Repent. Receive.
Writing fiction gives us an opportunity to confess. We bring characters to the page with all kinds of flaws and we commit them to errors, to cruelty, to joy, to devotion, to hatred, to . . . humanity. And in that humanity we openly display ourselves and reveal those things which must be confessed as wrong, as errant, as sin. We confront the depravity and the sweetness of the human soul and we allow readers to consume us. Some will spit us out, and others will hold the flavor of our words like their favorite Lifesavers. We may be what we eat, but we most certainly are what we write. Maybe not in physical demonstrations but in mental exercises. We simply must abide in those things we write in order to capture a measure of reality in the painted pictures of our chosen words. Think of the fragments of a broken mirror which remain in its frame. Look into that mirror and see the pieces of who you are: fractured, divided, still connected. It must be duplicated on the page.
Because at some point, we all must confess.
Father, I confess my struggles with sin everyday. And everyday I ask that you would continue to work in me, continue to forgive me, and I thank you for doing just that. Amazing love, how can it be . . . In the Name of Jesus, Amen.