Our focus will be on the upper room as well as the words of the Psalmist, “Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered” (Psa 32:1).
Jesus said “Do this in remembrance of me” to the apostles in the upper room. Therefore later, when the Lord had risen and an apostle brought that evening to mind, what was it that would be forefront in his recollection? Would it be the taste of the bread or the taste of the wine? Would it be the likeness of the plate or the cup that held these things? Would he remember the furnishings of the upper room where the events took place?
No — he would remember the feelings of the moment: the impact of the words and actions of Jesus through the evening and the faces of his fellow disciples as they took in what their Master said to them. The last supper was not a content, ritual meal after Jesus had cleaned everyone’s feet. It was a Passover of surpassing emotion, of tense moments, of deep feelings.
What of us when we remember him? Is it simply a time of ritual, a time to pass quickly with little thought, or is it a time of heartfelt contrition? Indeed, if we are to enter into the spirit of Jesus’ command, “Do this in remembrance of me”, we would do well to sit with the apostles in the upper room and feel what they felt and listen to the words of Jesus as if they were spoken to us and not only to them. We ask ourselves, then, what did those men feel?
They first felt guilty that their master did the slave’s job. Peter gave voice to their feelings when he said, “You will never wash my feet!” Peter did not volunteer to wash the rest of the disciples’ feet; none of them did. Earlier, they had argued about which of them was the greatest; Jesus had told them they must humble themselves like a little child. Still, not one was willing to take the slave’s place and it was Jesus who washed their feet. One by one along the line they waited in embarrassed silence for the Rabbi to wash their feet, perhaps hoping someone else would volunteer to take his place.
Later, the apostles felt still more guilty. “One of you will betray me,” said the Lord. What an atmosphere! Can we imagine the lump in their throats and the sickness in their stomachs? They didn’t immediately point the finger to one disciple and say, “it’s him,” but each of them began to say, “is it I?” They each felt guilty.
Can we identify with them? If we think of our weaknesses and our sins in contrast to the perfect life of Jesus, we will. At this moment we wish there was a way to escape from sin, but there it lies: we’ve done things hidden in darkness.
But Jesus did more than point the finger; he also spoke of forgiveness; of the new covenant and of the remission of sins — of forgiveness. We again remember the words of the Psalmist, “Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered” (Psa 32:1). Why did Jesus speak of the betrayer in the upper room? He spoke because his betrayal wasn’t only in the past but in the future. It’s natural to feel guilty for what we’ve done in the past, but compounding that sin is to purpose evil in our hearts even as we sit at the Lord’s Table, and still go and carry it out.
Our sin is individual. We don’t come to the door on a Sunday morning, and have the doorkeeper greet us by saying, “And what sins have you committed this week?” We usually worship as a group, as a community, but our sins are individual. Because our sins are hidden from the group does not mean we have no obligation to confess; we do have such a duty. This is no ritualistic confession but a pouring out of our soul. It is not ours to confess some of our sins and to keep other hidden, to leave some things unsaid, even to God. Remember again the words of the Psalmist again: “Blessed is the man … in whose spirit there is no deceit” (Psa 32:2, NKJV).
What does deceit have to do with forgiveness? David deceived himself when he didn’t open his heart to God, when his bones grew old through lack of confession. Not only so, but Judas did not renounce his sin when Jesus called him out as the betrayer. His weakness for money was so strong that he went out into the night.
We also could come before the table of the Lord week after week and only half confess, because we don’t really plan on renouncing our sins — truly giving up what we desire. True confession involves not only telling what we have done, but confessing our underlying weakness. It is as hard to truly confess our sins as it is to say, “I need help,” because such an admission shows our powerlessness, and it is humiliating. We fool ourselves if we think we are confessing but are not asking for and taking steps to get the help we need to really renounce sin and change our life. What does it mean to really change?
Well, let’s say there was a brother, and every year he cheated on his taxes, and every year he said, “God, forgive me for cheating on my taxes,” but every year, he did it again and pocketed the money. Was he forgiven?
Forgiven is when we come out of the shadows, from under our shell, or down from our tree and ask for forgiveness like Zacchaeus, who came down from his tree and Jesus dined at his house. This man didn’t just say, “forgive me.” He acknowledged his sin. “Half my goods I’m giving to the poor,” he said, “and if I’ve taken anything by false accusation I’ll give back four times as much” (Luke 19:8, paraphrased). It’s such a short passage of scripture that we may forget how humiliating this must have been for Zacchaeus. Nevertheless Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house.”
Returning to Psalm 32 — David said that when he remained silent his bones got old and he felt like he was wasting away. That’s the thing about evil acts — they seem enticing but over time they are stressful. Sometimes there are real consequences, like the prodigal son whose sin forced him eventually to feed pigs, and he hardly had enough to eat. Sometimes our bodies really do waste away because we abuse alcohol or drugs. We may waste away by stress because we feel as if it’s too complicated to set things right — because we fear the consequences of sin. We fear the humiliation.
True confession is humiliating. That’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it? We want to preserve our ego, and it’s too much to confess that we are a sinner and be seen to be a sinner — too much to have our sins brought into the light. We may even think that once this happens we can never do anything for God again because we are a “sinner”, just as the Jews grumbled to Jesus because he ate in the house of Zacchaeus, “a sinner”.
It is scary to confess our sins and have to do something about them, but we owe it to ourselves. We owe it to ourselves because hiding our sins and creating the illusion to others that we’re perfect isn’t true. It’s the deceit that the Psalmist spoke about. We owe it to ourselves because we need to be converted, to become like little children and say, “I need your help.” We owe it to ourselves, because sin is killing us, not only because the wages of sin is death, but because sin really does cause our bodies to wither away.
More than any of these, we owe it to Jesus. Not confessing is like saying, “I don’t really care.” He died for our sins: for your sins and for mine. Are we going to leave, to walk out into the night and betray him again? Or are we going to ask for help to really change?
Confessing our sins is humbling because we have to make changes that people will see. Sometimes such changes are huge. Paul went from being a Pharisee to being a member of a despised sect, The Way. His sins were great — he had cast his vote against those who were put to death, and he had dragged off believers to prison, probably to terrible conditions. But confessing his sin didn’t stop him from working for God. It started him.
Abraham lied about Sarah being his wife because he was afraid. God knew, and that lie was recorded in scripture. Abraham was a deceiver, but he changed. No doubt he was just as afraid for Isaac’s life as he had been for Sarah’s, but he believed God’s word that Isaac was the chosen son, and thus believed in the resurrection. It doesn’t matter what we need to confess or how evil it is. We need to change our ways, to turn around. Remember what God says through the apostle John: “If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1John 1:9 NRSV).
We are united in weakness but we are also united in hope. We remember Jesus in the upper room and also on the cross. Even if we are humiliated, will we endure shame like his? Jesus did no sin, but humbled himself even to the death of the cross, although he was the greatest man who ever lived, and could claim the greatest crown of men.
Confessing doesn’t make us sinless, but God, in His amazing mercy, has said that if we have faith in Jesus, He will impute righteousness to us. He will make us sinless. To return to our Psalmist: “Many sorrows shall be to the wicked; but he who trusts in the Lord, mercy shall surround him. Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, you righteous; and shout for joy, all you upright in heart!” (Psa 32:10-11 NKJV).
This is the time when confession is welcome, when forgiveness is possible. There is a time coming when, despite tears and gnashing of teeth, the moment will be gone. God is not looking for the perfect to appear before Him. Jesus did not come to save the righteous, but to bring sinners to repentance. “When we were without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly . . . God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.’
Let not that death, let not God’s love, be in vain. Let us not remain silent, but confess our sins and our powerlessness, and trust in the power of God to save us.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One