Most people go to the grave without ever confronting the false self—the deep patterns of dysfunction that govern their thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. Therefore, most people go to the grave never having felt the freedom of living as their true selves, never having given their true selves to the world and to those they love. To live apart from confession is an absolute tragedy, and to discover confession an unspeakable gift.
[Spiritual maturity is] not an ascension; it’s an archaeological dig as we discover layer after layer of what was in us all along. Spiritual maturity means more confession, not less. Maturity is discovering the depths of my personal brand of fallenness and the depths to which God’s grace has really penetrated, even without me knowing it.
When I first read this I felt two things: heavy with sadness but then excited — thrilled with hope. What layers are left to uncover? In myself AND in those I love?
I think of our true selves, maybe as we were at conception. Just untapped potential, a beautiful creation. Then as we grow, layers and layers of silt and rock build up over that true self, as we learn from and adapt to living in Egypt (the world outside God’s promised land). We experience suffering: more layers. We are wounded, we choose to run from love: more layers.
I’m no geologist, but I imagine God’s grace like the glittering fragments you sometimes find in rocks. And each layer I dig down through confession, I find that same glitter all throughout. He’s here. He was there. He knows what’s at the depths and is thrilled to go there with us.
I think for the confessing saint, the digging gets easier and easier. The more we see His grace at deep, dark levels, the more we can trust the process of repentance.
It’s for us, not for Him we confess.