When I was in 3rd grade, my parents arranged for me to go to a babysitter after school. She had the "Footprints in the Sand" poem hung on her wall. I used to read that poem everyday after school, I'm not sure if it was the poem itself, the picture of the missing footprints, or the mental imagry that drew me to the framed poem. Regardless, it left an impression on me that after 40 years, I can still recall the colors, shape of the picture, words, and profound warmth of my soul it still captures.
Yesterday, I had one of the best confessions of my life. During the Discipleship Conference, I went to the space for adoration and confession. The room was dimly lit, providing a scene of reverence and privacy. The altar was illuminated by candlelight, and music played to cover the sounds of the conference outside. Our blessed Lord was physically present in the monstrance, and the perimeter of the room was lined with priests throughout the Archdiocese. The music was at a level to just conceal the conversations of the faithful as they spoke with priests.
Lines were formed to wait for confession. One for English speakers, and the other for Spanish. Naturally I took my place in the far shorter English line and awaited my turn. As the penitents shuffled nearer to our turn for absolution, the gold hues of the monstrance would sparkle in the candlelight. The faithful kneeled in adoration and obedience towards the altar, and even in the whirl of the convention, this was a place of peace.
After a period of waiting, it was finally my turn. I was directed towards a corner of the room, and noticed two priests were ready to take confession. Consciously I veered away from one of the priests, not that he's an unholy man, but I didn't want to reveal the struggle that was upon my heart. Instead, I made my way towards the habit of a Benedictine monk. I took my seat beside him, and it began with the sign of the cross. It's funny we rarely hear or see writings or videos of actual confessions, and while I won't disclose all of my thoughts here I will touch on somethings.
"Bless me father for I have sinned, it's been four weeks since my last confession. I haven't screwed up that much over this month as usual, but still have plenty to account for..."
My brief bit of comic relief and his chuckle helped to break the tension on my heart. As I spoke with him about my sins, he provided great counsel. Actionable steps that I can do help relieve me of the cycles of sin I often find myself bound upon. As we discussed these things, he said, "Now that isn't your penance."
Wow, if that's not my penance, then what is he going to have me do? Afterall, you have to fulfill your penance if you're to be assured of your absolution. Was this going to be something grand, or extreme. Quite the contrary, I was ordered to do something that I know in my heart I need to do. In fact, before my day began at the conference, I swam and prayed the rosary. My intention that day was to listen to the guidance of our Lord, and find ways that I best serve my God. The penance was a fulfillment of that prayer.
It was then time for my Act of Contrition. I took a pause because I knew there was no way I could "avoid the near occasions of sin" and there was no way I could honestly say "vow to amend my life". All of those words while contrite would have been intellectually dishonest with the sins upon I confessed. My state in life keeps me wound in a vicious cycle of daily sin, and there is nothing I can now do to avoid this unenviable state. Instead I chose the words.
Lord Jesus Christ, only Son of God, have mercy upon me... a sinner.
I was already emotional, and the priest then became emotional as well. He said, "Do you know what you just said?" I nodded my head in sorrow, I knew exactly the words I chose and what they meant. I knew the origins of that prayer, and the impact it's had on Christians throughout the millennia. He then said with an emotional and shaking voice, "I say that prayer everyday. The St John of Chrysostom prayer."
In that instant, I knew there was an intersection of God, priest and man. In that experience, I knew the footprints in the sand. Christ is walking with me, Christ is carrying me. The imagery of the poem, words of Saint Patrick, prayer of St John of Chrysostom, and Rule of St Benedict, all at once merged to coincide with the grace of God.
Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
As the last word of absolution came from the priest and concluded with the sign of the cross, I lifted my tear filled face to see the priest too was crying. We both knew the grace was dispensed.
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