Let me first admit my bias: I work for the publishing program that released this book.
I can be biased, and a book can nevertheless be wonderful. Mandy is a lovely writer and a wise thinker. Her soul is centered. These qualities allow her to write a book that is bold and loving and sensible, all at the same time. It is edifying to readers in ways that many books aspire to be but struggle to achieve.
What I’m writing about is the title. I see a lot of buzz about this book online and it tends to organize around the first word of the title: “Confessions.” I understand why this would be so—“confessions” is a concrete word that is also provocative. A confession is apocalyptic in the classic sense of that word—it is revealing of things commonly held in secret, and the act of revelation is liberating and empowering. It’s also the first word in the title so it sets a tone for what follows it.
But “confessions” is only the fourth-most important word of the title. And I think people might make better sense of the book if they considered it from a different point of entry. I’d argue that the most important word of the title is “amateur.”
To be an amateur in anything is to make a practice of honesty. Amateurs know they are not experts; they make no pretense of being professionals in their craft. They aspire to excellence but recognize that their excellence is qualified; they operate outside the arena in which excellence for their craft is measured.
Amateurs thus are in it for the quest more so than the reward. They lean in, quietly honing their craft, diligently observing the tricks of the trade practiced by the professionals. They work this out mostly privately, only occasionally bringing what they’ve learned to an audience. They don’t quit their day jobs.
Don’t mistake this take on amateurism as a comment on quality. A colleague once told me about one of the most accomplished biblical scholars in the world; he was asked why he never pursued a PhD on the subject. “Who would grade my dissertation?” was his response. To be an amateur is not to be unqualified or substandard. It is to give careful attention to something that has taken root in the cracks and crevices of your everyday life.
If “amateur” is the most important word in Mandy’s title, and “confessions” is fourth, what take second and third place?
I’d argue for “Saint” getting the silver medal. Thomas Merton famously concluded (guided by wise and trustworthy friends) that “to be a saint is to be myself” and who among us doesn’t recognize that our true self is tucked somewhere in the cracks and crevices? The word “Saint” has the same etymological roots as “sanctification,” a reminder that to be ourselves truly is a sacred task, pursued under the caring supervision of a loving God. Mandy’s book is a book of sanctification; it’s about, in Eugene Peterson’s rendering of Romans 12, taking “your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life” and “embracing what God does for you” there.
In that sense, third place goes to “self-sufficiency,” tucked away there in the subtitle. Self-sufficiency is the besetting sin of all of us amateur saints. We become so focused on perpetual improvement that we forget that our true self was created by God. We rely on God because it is God who crafted us, who set us in a particular context. God is the only professional—clerical robes and divinity degrees notwithstanding. Human life is an apprenticeship. Self-sufficiency gets in the way of our growth.
Comedian Bob Hope titled his autobiography “Confessions of a Hooker,” a commentary on his golf swing. His titling strategy was misdirection, a shocking mix of words that only told the truth once you got inside it. “Confessions” in book titles often serves that sort of function, not signaling the act of confessing per se but announcing an apocalyptic undertaking: an effort to uncover something that will prove liberatingly revelatory. That is, in many ways, the work of a pastor, which happens to be Mandy’s profession. This is a pastoral book, a reminder to “professional” and lay Christians alike that the ground is level before the cross of Christ, that “we all live off [God’s] generous abundance, gift after gift after gift” (John 1:16-18, The Message). It’s okay to be amateur in your discipleship; that’s the way God planned it, and that’s the way we become saints.