Week #29: Take a Retreat

So many of us live our lives amid continuous obligations and burdensome demands.   The way out of such complex living is not simply the reordering of our schedules.  This complexity of our lives, this way of living that often chokes out all sense of spiritual vibrancy cannot be dealt with via a new system of arrangement or a way of task management.  We must get away.  We must put down all that clutters both our internal and outer spaces so that we may be open to the Spirit of God in our midst.  For many, the inability to live fully amid the Kingdom of God is simply because their lives are filled with too many other things.  Rearranging the 'too many things' may make us feel more efficient with our time or schedules, but it still leaves us with too many things.  A filled vessel is still a filled vessel no matter how we arrange those things that fill it.

Taking a time of retreat, by which we remove ourselves from the regular stuff of life is a powerful way to re-connect with God's presence around us. Yet to do this we must leave things behind.  We leave our electronics unplugged, our schedules at home, and our cell-phones off.  Taking a retreat necessitates that we resist the desire to fill up the time, either through the temptation to load various forms of entertainment and distractions or to remain constantly 'available' to the outside world.  These but tie us to all that clutters our lives. In retreat our time belongs to God alone. We submit to God's directions and initiatives.

There are many different ways to be 'on retreat.'  One can go on retreat for a month, a week, or a few days.  The length of time will differ based on the retreat you feel God leading you into.  Retreats can be guided by a director, or can be personally administered; they can be done individually, or as a member of a group. Periods of silence often play and important part in taking a retreat.

The discipline of taking a retreat, however, is not dependant on mountain chalet's and weekends of solitude. One can take 'mini' retreats as we go through our daily tasks.  What would it look like end our day by sitting in silence for 5 minutes?  What if we refused to answer any email after dinner?  When our schedule contains a block of time unoccupied, what if we saw this as an opportunity to sit in a nearby park and, as Jesus encourages us, 'observe the lilies of the field.'

The basis of taking a retreat is hearing the loving invitation of Jesus to 'come away with me to a quiet place and get some rest.'  Retreats lead us into a time of re-creation.  By turning off the noise of the world around us we give ourselves the opportunity to re-hear God's messages of love and grace.  It is important, then,  to have no expectations about our times of retreat.  Demands regarding 'how it should be done', and 'what we should get out of it', even 'how we should feel at the end' are unhelpful to us; they are undue pressures that remove our soul from the sanctity of our moments away.   To fill up our retreat with preoccupations about the 'right actions' the 'right response' or the 'right feeling' do nothing but diminish our attentiveness to the voice of the Spirit and the presence of Jesus.

 A retreat calls us to spend our time doing less, even though the world continually bombards us with messages demanding that we do 'more'.  Retreats call us to stop, even though the world tells us we must always be on the go.  Retreats call us to listen to God's voice instead of the multiplicity of noises that can too easily fill up our lives.

Taking a Retreat is a powerful discipline for it forces us to physically live out our internal desire for spiritual vitality.  We physically remove ourselves from the demands and complexities of our lives in order to enter an intensive and focused time with God.  In this we create the internal space needed to receive nothing but God's presence and voice in our lives.

Week #28: Journal about your consolations/desolations

We live in a world of perpetual distraction.  Our focus is constantly being pulled in a multitude of directions.  Many today simply have no experience of life away from franticness.  To them, the call to 'be still and know that I am God' (Psalm 46:10), or to 'come away with me by yourself to a quiet place' (Mark 6:31), seems all but impossible.  We have no experiences of it to give it content.  Similarly, the language of the spiritual life seems foreign to many.  What is this deep inner movement of the Spirit?  How do I know that I hear God? How can I be sure I am living in connection with God?

Part of the problem is that we never seem to give any sustained focus on our spiritual lives.  We treat our spiritual selves like we treat every other experience in life; they  are lived moment by moment, and once the moment is passed, our focus has moved on to other things.  Rarely do we ever return to our moments of spiritual livelihood and look deeply into them.  What occurred that brought us a feeling of closeness to God?  When did we feel away from God?  What did God teach us/show us/say to us during our day?

Keeping a journal helps us maintain a sense of divine focus because it forces to linger on our holy moments.  We look upon our day, paying attention to the marks of the Spirit upon our lives.  This is not much different from the ancient practice of ending the day with a prayer of examen.  We attempt, with the help of God's grace, to notice those places in our daily life where we were attentive to the Spirit's call and presence, as well as those times where we may have passed it by.

A simple way to set up your journal is to structure it around St. Ignatius' understanding of our spiritual consolations and desolations.  A Consolation is a moment in which we are aware of God's holy presence in our midst.  Ignatius writes " I call it consolation when the soul is aroused by an interior movement which causes it to be inflamed with love of its Creator and Lord, and consequently can love no created thing in this world for its own sake, but only in the Creator of all things. . . .Finally, I call consolation any increase of faith, hope, and charity and any interior joy that calls and attracts to heavenly things, and to the salvation of one's soul, inspiring it with peace and quiet in Christ Jesus our Lord."  A consolation is a place a mystery, a place of transfiguration, where the ordinary of life seems to shine with the glory of God.

Consolations may occur in many different ways.  It may occur through a conversation with a friend, where our spirit seems to internally recognize God's speaking through the voice of another; it may be a feeling that is felt as one walks in nature, or sits alone in silent contemplation; it may occur through a time of worship, or Bible study.  Importantly, a consolation is not something to be understood or dissected, only experienced.  Journalling about our consolations is not done so that we may examine these moments so as to reproduce them; rather the recognition of our spiritual consolations helps us return to such moments, thankful for God's grace upon our lives, allowing them to inform how live out our faith in the future.

A desolation, obviously, is the opposite of a consolation.  They are the moments in which we feel that we are being draw away from the Spirit of God.  Again, it can occur in many different ways; it may be seen in a time where we act in sin or rejection of God, or  it can be a 'feeling' that something is 'not right' about a situation.  Ignatius defines a desolation as 'darkness of the soul, turmoil of the mind, inclination to low and earthly things, restlessness resulting from many disturbances and temptations which lead to loss of faith, loss of hope, loss of love."  Desolations drives us away from a life of prayer and an internal restedness in the Spirit of God.

It can be uncomfortable to reflect upon these things - particularly on our desolations.  We can easily feel overwhelmed as these reflections point us to habits of activity that we would rather not shed light upon.  Yet we must understand that the point of reflecting on desolations is not to feel guilt or shame, but to drive us more strongly to the grace-filled forgiveness of our Saviour. We feel the sting of desolation only so that it may point us to God's loving hand upon our lives.
 
Journalling in this manner trains us to be be open to God's spirit in new ways.  In scripture, Paul mentions that we must 'train ourselves to godliness' in the same way as an athlete trains themselves for competition. (1st Timothy 4:7-8)  In journalling about consolations and desolations we learn how to be present in the sacredness of each moment, peering behind the shallow veil of exterior life, in order to be attentive to the voice and presence of God.  The acknowledgement of God's consolations teaches us how we may enter into future moments in anticipation of the Spirit at work.  Conversely, in recognizing the places in our lives where we begin to move away from God's presence, we are more able to hold more tightly to our Lord in those times, and thus remain steadfast in our faith.  We 'train ourselves' to recognize our inner temptations and vices thus giving us the opportunity to avoid such snares.

NOTE: Quotes of St. Ignatius are taken from "The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius" as quoted in  Devotional Classics: Selected readings for Individuals and Groups;  Richard J Foster and James Bryan Smith, editors.

Week #27: Learn to say 'No'.

Our lives can be filled up with a multiplicity of demands.  We are continually bombarded with calls for more - more action, more time, more effort.  Whether these calls come from home, work, school or church, these asks on our lives seem never ending.   Sometimes this multiplicity of demands are rooted in things we feel passionate about.  We choose to continually give our selves to that which is demanded in the moment.  And because our interests and passions are often varied and complex, the calls upon us are also varied and complex.

Sometimes we create busyness, believing that jammed schedules and pressing demands are tally marks equalling our own importance.  To be busy is to blessed, we believe.  We tell ourselves, and others, "It's better to be busy that not busy!"  Thus, we never refuse an offer or an ask.  Yet what inevitably happens is that we begin to resent those demands upon us.  The tasks that used to be interesting are now only taxing.   That which promised interest now seem dry and lifeless.

Living in such frenzied manner leaves us feeling overwhelmed and drained of energy.  It is to live from a place of duty not devotion.  God becomes viewed as nothing more than a boss demanding results rather than a Saviour inviting us into abundant life. The activity of our life become that which drain our faith rather than that which fuels it.  This is not the life that God calls us to.  

We must learn how to say no to the those things that take us out devotional living.  The inability to say no keeps us from the life rooted in Christ's presence.  We remain in state of perpetual distraction, pulled in a thousand different directions. Our heart, mind, soul and strength is continually directed to the demand we have to face in this and the next moment, and this keeps us from truly dwelling in the deep well of God's love. The truth of our spiritual lives is that the richness of an internal life with God is rarely found as we run true and fro. A single-hearted focus upon God and his kingdom cannot survive in the constant oscillation between this demand and that task.

A simplified life is a life that is lived out of the centre of faith.  Our desire to follow God's will, expressed in and through our lives, becomes that which governs all of life. In the book, "A Testament of Devotion" Thomas Kelley writes about the necessity of living out of this sense of guidance.  Kelley writes: "When we say Yes or No to calls for service on the basis of heady decisions, we have to give reasons, to ourselves and to others.  But when we Yes or No to calls on the basis of inner guidance and whispered promptings of encouragement from the Centre of our life, or on the basis of a lack of any inward 'risings' of that Life to encourage us in the call, we have no reason to give, except one - the will of God as we discern it.  Then we have begun to live in guidance.  And I find that He never guides us into an intolerable scramble of panting feverishness." ( pg.100)

The life that God calls us to live is not a life of frenzied deadlines and last-minute projects.  God does not wish us to feel so overwhelmed at the things of life that we feel cut off from the Spirit of God in us. Jesus invites us to know life, and know it in abundance.  It remains then, that the way of God must also involve the denial of demands, and not just the acceptance of them.  The abundance of life that Christ invites us into is not merely an abundant of things to do.  In fact, the abundance of God may very well be experienced through our ability to refuse such demands.

God calls us to say no in certain situations just as much as He calls us to say yes.  God may call us to put down or limit certain tasks we enjoy, or demands we are interest in, in order to cultivate a deeper rootedness in His kingdom.  We say no, not because something is bad, or even because we do not wish to do that which is asked of us;  we say no out of desire to remain centred in holy focus.  The act of saying no to a demand is an act of saying yes to God's will in our lives.  This is the root of a life of faith.  We are able to say our no with just as much confidence as we say our Yes because we recognize that our no is yet another way in which we turn to God.  We put down the demands of life for the sole purpose of dwelling more securely in the presence of our Lord.

What is it that God may be asking you to say no to?  What is the task, or duty, or demand you have been holding onto to that God is asking you to put down?  

It can be scary to say no.  It can be scary to turn down offers, or refuse demands, but there is tremendous freedom in do so.  When we say no to something, out of the deep desire to remain rooted in God's surrounding presence, then we release ourselves from the burden of control.  We sit with a spirit of patience and submission and in this we are graced to experience the movement of God in our lives and in this world.  As Thomas Kelley describes it, this manner of life 'is a life of unhurried peace and power.  It is simple. It is serene. It is amazing.  It is triumphant. It is radiant. . . .We need not get frantic.  He is at the helm.  And when our little day is done we lie down quietly in peace, for all is well.'

Week #26: Consider the present sacred

For each of us there is a certain degree in which our lives are filled with the mundane and the normal.  In fact, most of our lives probably do not exude the extraordinary, the miraculous, the exciting events that we spend much of our time hoping for.  Rather, we live amid the humdrum of life.  The routine.  The trivial. The regular.  There are phone-calls and deadlines, traffic jams, and dinner preparations.  Rarely do we see these moments as places of providential blessings or miraculous peace.

What do we do with these ordinary moments, moments that simply bleed one into another?  Often, we ignore them.  They are, after all, nothing special.  Yet such negligence of the holiness around us is to cut ourselves off from the presence of God in the sacredness of the present moment.  Our lives, as ordinary as they may be, are the very places where God chooses to dwells with us.  The tasks of the day, no matter how mundane or trivial, are able to be the means of God's grace, places where we enter into life with the Holy Spirit.

When it comes to living a spirituality of ordinary moments, the Celtic tradition has a unique take on this. Believing that we are able to remember God's presence in the most trivial of places, Celtic tradition advocates a ritualization of ordinary places.  By surrounding the tedious moments of life with a prayer or blessing, the moment is thereby transformed into a place of divine intimacy.   Take, for example, 'The Blessing for the Receiving of Phone Calls;

Here is a child of God,
image of the Father,
redeemed by the Son,
invited by the Spirit,
I welcome this person,
with the heart of Christ.

(For those on eastern and western shores, you may wish to look at 'A Celtic Blessing for the Harvesting of Seaweed.')

What would it look like if we saw the ordinary things of life as places whereby we are invited into a deep connection with the Spirit?  What if we saw every phone call as a Spirit-led conversation, every interruption as an insertion of divine agenda, every trivial matter as a place where we are able to breathe deep the presence of God?  Would some of our frustrations end?  Would irritability and short fuses decrease?  Would we be more accepting of the things around us, or even ourselves?

Our faith is lived in the real, tangible, and often ordinary moments of our lives.  The ordinary places of life are not untouched by the presence of God.  In fact it is in the present moment where we abide with Christ, where we feel his love and grace, where we are led by the Spirit, where we receive mercy and forgiveness.  Denying the holiness of the present moment is to deny the very reality of our life with God. In his famous book "The Sacrament of the Present Moment,' Jean-Pierre de Cassaude writes 'What treasures of grace lie concealed in these moments filled, apparently, by the most ordinary events. That which is visible might happen to anyone, but the invisible, discerned b y faith, is no less than God operating very great things."

The language of the present moment being a 'sacrament' is intriguing.  It reminds us to look beyond the surface frustrations to what may truly be occurring in our lives.  We peer past what our eyes see and attempt to interact with the deep things of life from the place of faith, the place where true life resides.  What is more, there is excitement here, writes de Cassaude. He writes 'If we could lift the veil, and if we were attentive and watchful God would continually reveal Himself to us, and we should see his divine action in everything that happened to us, and rejoice in it.  At each successive occurrence we should exclaim, "It is The Lord!"  and we should accept every fresh circumstance as a gift from God.'  Imagine seeing every moment as a place where we bump into our Risen Lord.

Yet is that not the life that we are called in to?

Each moment of life bares the opportunity for divine nearness.  The present moment is sacred because in it we uncover the freedom of knowing that we are called to be no other person than who we are here and now.  The present moment tells us that we are called to no other place then where God has placed us in this instant.  Why strive to control, to manage, to direct, when there is a deeper reality at work.  Yes the present moment may be ordinary, even dull.  Yet it is a place filled with God's holy presence, and in that there are multitudinous possibilities.

Week #25: Tithe

Simplicity is both an internal and external discipline.  It speaks to the very way we perceive the matters of faith and life and has dramatic effectIn on the manner in which we live in this world. There is perhaps no deeper realm to this, or perhaps none more uncomfortable, that the manner in which we understand, use, and relate to money.

Money is deeply ingrained in the very manner in which we live; there is simply no way around it.  We use money, we spend money, we save money.   Yet too often we fail to see our relation to money in any sort of spiritual context.  It is simply that which is used as we go through the functions of our every day lives.  Yet peel back the layers and we find that too often the money we have, or long to have, exerts a dominating force upon us.  It controls us.  It drives our action, establishes our focus, and calls our attention. We dream of 'striking it rich', 'hitting it big', or moving from 'rags-to-riches.'  These lies communicate to us that accumulation of money is that which solves all our problems.  We dream about what we will do when we win the lottery thinking that a massive influx of cash will set our life in order.  Yet too often those who win the lottery find quickly find themselves in financial, moral, emotional, and spiritual bankruptcy.

Money promises freedom and happiness yet delivers slavery and depression. It keeps us in anxiety and fear.  It tells us to be fearful of never having enough, despite the fact that too often that which it calls us to is far from necessary.  It keeps us always focused on the riches we do not have, rather than highlighting the riches we do.  Jesus knew that money too easily becomes a rival God demanding servitude.  "You cannot serve both God and money (mammon)."  Jesus knew that the money is able to exert an intoxicating pull over us. Like a rival deity it demands an emotional attachment. We become identified with how much we have and find ourselves unable to part with the smallest of units.  Is it any wonder that our modern world, so full of abundance, has produced such a soul-crippling problem as hoarding?

This is why the discipline of tithing can be so powerful.  Tithing dethrones the rival power.  It frees from the emotional enslavement that money too often holds over our lives.  In tithing we reclaim our proper place.  This is because tithing, ultimately, is not just actually about money.  Tithing is about worship.  It is about divine allegiance.  In tithing we strip money of the sacredness that this world wrongly gives to it, and again submit ourselves in humble faith to the Lord of heaven and earth. In this we enter into the joy and freedom found in a posture of dependance.  Ours is not to strive and fret - ours is to humbly receive and give thanks.  Consider the lilies and the birds, Jesus says.

Through tithing we truly uncover the beauty and goodness of all that surrounds us.  The goodness seen in that which we own occurs truly as  we see these things as expressions of God's care and providence for us.  This frees us from the burden of having to protect or hoard that which we own.  For if the goodness of money is found, not in the ownership of it, but in its kingdom use, then we are able to uncover the blessedness of giving.  "We would be hard pressed," writes Richard Foster, "to find a teaching on money [in the Bible] that does not somehow mention giving."  (From 'The Challenge of the Disciplined Life').

There are many ways that we can enter into the discipline of tithing.  While it does not have to be the typical 10%, we must resist the attempt to minimize its force.  To do this is to value our ownership of money over our life with God.  If tithing is seen only as an obligation, or worse yet - a bill, then we will never see it as an act of  thanksgiving.  The tithe should be significant enough that we notice the gift for it is in noticing that we express our thanks to God for all of God's blessings in life.  It is an act of praise and thanksgiving.  We do not retain a sense of deserve or ownership of our money - we release it all into the hands of God and in doing so render our confidence and trust.

It should also be mentioned that we are also able tithe our time and/or service. Tithing does not have to be a gift of money.  It can also be a gift of our time and our effort.  Too often our life with God is relegated to 90 minutes on Sunday mornings while the rest of our lives are spent living unto ourselves.  When we tithe our time or effort, we recognize the possible incongruity between our that which we say we believe, and how we actually live it out.  What would it be like to increase my time with God each day?  Can we spend more time in prayer, in worship, in study? Are my faithful expressions done out of duty or out of an internal desire to be with our Lord in intimate relationship?

The mathematics of tithing, whether it is in time/service or money, is not about 10% here and 10% there.  Tithing is  about our life with God; about our focus, our worship.  And to that end it should always equal 100%.

Week # 24: Do not take part in Gossip.

'Sticks and stones may break our bones but names will never hurt us.'  It sounds good doesn't it? It suggests that as long as we feed continually on this mantra then the taunts and insults of haters will simply roll off of our backs.  The rhyme makes it sound as if our words lack the the power to inflict deep and lasting wounds.  It promises to keep us inwardly strong and stalwart.  Too bad it's a lie.  Names hurt.  Words scar.  We have seen this time and time again.

Long before this rhyme was thought up, James wrote 'The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell.'  (James 3:6) It is a truth testified to far too often. Gossip destroys people and communities.

The root of gossip is selfish pride.  It is selfishness which says that we need to be the center of information, and it is arrogant pride that reduces someone's identity to the sole product of the stories we hear and tell.  The sly whispers in the parking lot, the casual utterances of 'well that's not what I heard', the willful re-telling of events in someone else's life, all play on the idolatrous notion that we are more important than others.  We speak about matters which we have no right to speak to.  We tell stories that are not ours to tell.

Sometimes this seems innocent enough.  We tell of another's medical diagnosis under the rhetoric of 'people should know.'  Or, as often is the case in the church, we aggressively plumb for deeply personal information, often referencing why it is important that we know such information. 'Why are they on the prayer list?' we ask.  "Have you heard about so and so?" "I need to know how to pray for them.'  In this we reduce the other to the sole product of the stories we hear or the tales we tell.  We fundamentally deny their personhood through the insistence that we know what is best for them. Shirley Hughson writes "One of the most frequent and hurtful occasions of pride is the readiness with which most of us give our opinion or instruct others, on any subject that might be introduced into conversation.'  It is 'enslavement to talking' writes Johnson.

It used to be that gossip was reserved for shadowed conversations occurring in the background.  Social media has changed all that.  In a world that is so laden with text - from Internet forums to text messages to social media posts - the manner in which we speak to each other is of utmost importance.  Just like face-to-face gossip, we need to see the words we write as coming from the deep centres of our being.  Our words, whether typed on a keyboard or spoken in private, bare our souls and they declare what is in our hearts.  When our gossip or bullying destroys the personhood of another, we should feel deeply ashamed.

The tongue is a restless evil precisely because through it we are able to hurt someone more deeply than sticks and stones could ever do. "With the tongue we bless The Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God" (vs 9). Our words cut to the heart and are able to destroy the soul.  How can this not be seen as hellish behaviour?

Here is an interesting thought experiment: What would happen in the world if we gave up gossip?  What effect would there be if we embraced the refusal to speak out of turn, to whisper behind another's back, to keep our disparaging remarks to ourselves?  How would the world be different?

For those of us in the church, this shouldn't really be a thought experiment;  it should be the very manner in which we live out our faith lives.  The matter of how we speak to each other is not merely a matter of politeness or social nicety.  It goes to the heart of faith.  Our holiness, or lack thereof, is displayed for the world in how we speak to each other.    James concludes his discussion on the tongue by stating that 'out of the same mouth come blessing and cursing.  My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so.' (vs.10)

What if we simply decided not to tell other people's stories - good or bad.  What if the phrases  'guess what I heard' or 'Did you hear about ..' were viewed to be as offensive as the worst four-lettered swear.  Doing so would release us from the enslavement to talking, and the prideful wielding of others' stories. It would focus us away from self interest, and the building up of our own image, and ground us in the call to bless and edify others.

With celebrity expose's around every corner, we need to be reminded that it is not our job to have all the information in people's lives - or to tell events that are not ours to tell.   Refraining from gossip-filled conversations is a simple act by which we free ourselves from the 'information is power' way of thinking.  No longer are we concerned with the management of our image - which too often is seen as related to another.  In refraining from gossip we strive to be content with not knowing the ins and outs, the latest scoop, or the rest of the story, as we release such matters into the gracious keeping of God.

May the words of our mouths, and the meditation of our hearts, be acceptable to God, our rock and our redeemer.

Week #23: Make your confession

It is said that confession is good or the soul, but how many of us actually take this to heart?  Unless we come from a religious tradition that makes confession a liturgical necessity this discipline too often get's pushed to the side.  Even then, confession can become a dry and lifeless liturgical hoop to go through.  We make our confession without any real desire for spiritual or moral change.  Similar is the case of corporate confession.  The moment when congregation says together 'we confess our sins to Almighty God . .' simply becomes nothing more than a prayer we rattle off giving no thoughts to matters such as repentance or the amendment of life.  In each case true confession is fundamentally rejected.

From where did we get the curious notion that the call to confession was somehow contrary to the love and grace of God?  Why is it that we see confession as an exercise akin to guilt-mongering instead of one that ushers in spiritual freedom and closeness with Christ?

When we refuse to confess our sins to God, we choose to keep parts of ourselves hidden.  We mask the state of our heart and souls, and we thus we live in a self-deceiving lie. It is not that we are hiding these things from God, but we fail to engage ourselves in true and humble honesty. We put up a front.  Instead of engaging those deep places of our soul, the longings, the hurts, the wounds, the sins, we plaster them over with a schtick of 'I'm Ok, You're Ok.'  All the while, internally, we are crying for a depth of spiritual freedom that somehow, amid our best efforts, remains forever elusive.

How can we find the freedom that we so desperately crave if we do not seek in the fullness of who we are?

Confession is good for the soul precisely because it frees it from the toxic self-deception and festering negative forces that can too often eat away at us.  Just listen to David: "For when I kept silent my bones wasted away through my groaning all the day long.  For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer."  (Psalm 32:3-4)  Living self-deception exhausts us.  It drains our spiritual livelihood. Slowly, the reality of our Lord's love and mercy becomes replaced by things such as fear, guilt, and shame.  Our spirits are left feeling wasted and dried up.

Confession can be hard and challenging, but ultimately God leads us into so that we can be free from the sins, hurts, and wrongs that shackle our spiritual lives.  This is why God's hand is sometimes 'heavy upon us', not because God delights in seeing us writhe in guilt-ridden agony, but because God desperately wants us to the experience the full force of liberating love.  After uncovering how the silence about his true spiritual condition is inwardly destructive, David continues: 'Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and did not cover my iniquity;  I said "I will confess my transgressions to The Lord," and you forgave the iniquity of my sin' (vs. 5).

Confession is important for a life of simplicity because it causes us to look at our spiritual life as it truly is.  After all, how can we live a life of single-hearted focus on God if we are not honest about our struggles or needs.  We cannot have a singleness of heart and hold onto spiritual duplicity.   If we deny the struggles of faith, or the frailty of our lived-out relationship with God, we only deceive ourselves and the truth - the truth of God's full redemption, the truth of who we are before our Lord - is not in us.  Confession does not make God love us, God loves us in every instance and moment, but confession does produce an inner vulnerability that opens us to divine love unhindered by all that we try to hide.

There are several ways that we can incorporate confession into our spiritual lives.  Confession is really is not that hard.  All it takes is a humble honesty about ourselves.  You may choose to obtain a 'confessor,' someone whom you will be honest with, and whom you will accept their words of absolution as divine truth.  This person doesn't have to be a pastor or priest, but it is helpful if they are.  Confessing to someone can be difficult and scary, and you will want to pray about the person you choose as a confessor.  Such a relationship must be mutually established and agreed upon. This is why a priest or pastor is a good option, for they will already be accustomed to things such as accountability, confidentiality, and prayerfulness.  

Of course, you don't have to confess to another human individual.  We can confess directly to our Lord.  In many ways this is a 'safer option',  but therein lies the challenge.  We must work hard at full disclosure.  A good suggestion would be to write your confession down on paper.  There is something deeply moving about writing down 'I judged x' or 'I yelled at y'.  Somehow, seeing it written down helps us understand the reality of these things in our lives. Once you have written down all that you choose to confess, sit with that reality. Don't rush past this too quickly.  Experience the discomfort, the sorrow, the desire for forgiveness.  Pray a simple, uncomplicated prayer, one that asks God forgive you of these matters.  After a certain amount of time you may experience these sins slowly melt away.  In manners which are unique to you, you will feel the truth of forgiveness.  When this happens, it is good to write 'Forgiven' over everything you wrote.  Again, there is something about seeing the word 'Forgiven' stamped over your particular sins that helps us understand the reality of the freedom and redemption that you have been lead into.

Confession, ultimately, is not about our sins.  It is about the love of God and God's desire to forgive.  In confession, this is what we are left with - and this is the experience that surrounds this discipline.