I texted my friend Anthony at 11:06am to reschedule a call. In his reply, he asked how my soul was doing today. My reply: “99% good. 😉 Working with taxes and finances today, so 99% is a win!!” Several hours later, the, ah, manure had hit the fan.

It was first of the month—the day I have to close out the books on the prior 30 days of our Airbnb business. It’s the same routine every month, although every month seems to bring its own special sauce of aggravations and obstacles. I’ll admit, finances is my kryptonite. Some people seem to love getting every cent into its perfect little place, but all those cents seem to sense my barely concealed antipathy…and run for cover. It’s like herding cats, and it often brings out the monster in me. That was certainly true today.

It didn’t help that, while crunching numbers for hours and trying to squeeze them into their proper categories, a small crisis was brewing at one of the properties. A failing electrical breaker might actually be symptomatic of a failing breaker panel! A $100 problem might suddenly transmogrify into a $1000 problem. And trying to schedule a tradesperson here in the mountains…well, that requires a Ph.D. in spiritual formation. Then trying to arrange a bid from another vendor on the same day. And the kicker: trying to file 1099s just under the deadline. Whew, by the end of the day I felt a little beat up.

I tell myself that it’s a spiritual practice: an oh-so-predictable fresh opportunity every month to embrace my financial angst with humility and grace. Without anxiety, without attachment. Maybe with some extra meditation, a yoga session, and a glass of wine. It really is a spiritual practice, one I failed miserably this time!

I know, “failure” isn’t the best way to evaluate a spiritual practice, as if God is holding up scoring placards to grade us. “There’s no failure, only feedback,” I often tell my clients. Okay, so the “feedback” from today was that my aptitude for organizational anxiety is still alive and well. And that anxiety is still a magnet for shame with me, a sneaky enemy who wants to double-down on my embarrassment.

But there’s other feedback too: that, once again, true humility is still the antidote for all the toxicity of grief and shame. That mercifully, graciously, I am still loved. And I am still human. Loved, in fact, right in the center of my humanity with all its flaws and frailties. And so are you!

So what scenario invites your demons out to play? What’s your kryptonite? When does your ego rise up to strive and prove and resist? Where does failure and shame haunt you? There—right there—you are loved, accepted, embraced. Without shame or judgment. God’s heart feels our pain and longs to walk us out of the struggle and into a safe surrender. Have you felt the Shepherd tend your heart like that lately?

Later this afternoon, bruised and subdued by my struggle, I thought about the morning’s text to Anthony. “99%, my eye,” I snorted. But the tenderizing presence of Love was having its effect, and my heart was beginning to soften. I texted him back at 6:13pm,

“By way of confession, I feel compelled to acknowledge that my day did not go very well after all. Spent most of the afternoon frustrated and angry with my work.”

And you know what? James was right. “Confess your sins to each other,” the apostle counseled. “Pray for each other so that you may be healed” (James 5:16). Confessing my shortcomings to Anthony was an unexpected salve on my soul tonight. My wife Kellie usually catches the brunt of both my sins and my confessions, but stepping into the light with a trusted friend was a burden lifted and a healing received.

Anthony’s response was typical Anthony, which is to say, infused with grace and truth through the Holy Spirit: “Thanks for sharing this with me, Jerome. I will pray for your heart and head to be refreshed after this difficult day. Lord, be with your beloved Jerome. Push back darkness, silence the voices of the false self, and move his soul to the safe place of your enveloping love, grace and kindness. Thanks for being my friend, Jerome! I love you!”

Wow. What a transcendent gift. My eyes tear up as I write this at 4am. (Couldn’t sleep.) I know that God loves me and forgives me and restores my heart. I do. But sometimes it helps to hear God speak it through a friend.

What would have happened if the Spirit hadn’t nudged me to confess to Anthony? Or if my ego had shut it down? I still would have been forgiven…but I might not have felt forgiven. Verbalized confession opens the door for a visceral encounter with healing grace.

Confession isn’t much of a practice for us Protestants…at least in words spoken (or texted) to another human. Maybe some baby got thrown out with the bathwater in Luther’s defining corrective five hundred years ago. Maybe our spiritual journey isn’t as privatized as we tend to think. Perhaps the depth of healing that confession brings really is a means of grace meant to be experienced within and among the community. Experienced together in ways we can’t fully experience alone.  

Confession doesn’t require a priest, just a trusted friend and a bit of humility. Try it for yourself and see. “The prayer of a righteous [friend] is powerful and effective,” James concludes. Indeed it is.

Take a moment to think: Who would you call or text if you wanted to experience the comfort and healing of confession? And, What is it you would want to confess?

Confession is truly good for the soul.