Wednesday, March 18, 2026

Wednesday in Laetare - The Fourth Week of Lent

(Audio)


Luke 15:11-32; 2 Corinthians 5:18-21; Jeremiah 17:5-10; Psalm 19

 

Washed in the Blood of the Lamb: The Ten Commandments and Confession & Absolution

Confession & Absolution: What sins should I confess?

 

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.

“I, a poor, miserable sinner….” You and I confess this about ourselves each and every Sunday at the beginning of the Divine Service. Those words are not comfortable, and they are not meant to be. In fact, if they never unsettle you, if they never press in on your conscience, then something has gone wrong. Sin should be uncomfortable. That is precisely why we should not soften this language or update it to fit the spirit of the age. If anything, the more out of step it sounds with the world, the more clearly it speaks the truth.

We are, as our Lord teaches us, prodigal sons and daughters. We have taken our Father’s gifts for granted. We have squandered His good creation, His Word, His mercy, in careless and reckless living. And when we say, “I, a poor, miserable sinner…,” we are not exaggerating. We are confessing reality. We are confessing that we have come to the end of ourselves, that we cannot fix this, cannot climb our way back, cannot make things right. And that, dear Christians, is not a curse. It is a gift.

For when the prodigal son “came to himself,” he did not return home with a clever plan to earn his father’s favor. He came empty-handed. His speech, “make me like one of your hired servants,” never even gets finished. His father runs to him, embraces him, restores him. So also with you. When you come to your senses, do not waste time trying to bargain with God or prove yourself. Throw yourself upon His mercy. Trust His goodness. Trust His love.

But then the question arises: what sins should we confess? Before God, we should plead guilty of all sins, even those we are not aware of, as we do in the Lord’s Prayer. The Lord who made us knows us better than we know ourselves. He sees not only what we do, but what we are. He sees the heart, its thoughts, its desires, its inclinations. And that is what makes confession so searching, and so necessary.

As the prophet declares, the heart is deceitful above all things. And our Lord Himself teaches that from within, out of the heart, come evil thoughts, and all manner of sin. This is why Luther’s Small Catechism, in the “Christian Questions and Answers,” begins not with a list of outward actions, but with a deeper question:

Do you believe that you are a sinner? Yes, I believe that I am a sinner.

How do you know this? From the Ten Commandments, which I have not kept.

Are you sorry for your sins? Yes, I am sorry that I have sinned against God.

What have you deserved? His wrath and displeasure, temporal death, and eternal damnation.

That is not comfortable language. But it is honest language. It is the language of truth.

Luther says in the Large Catechism that before God, all must “tuck their tails” and be glad simply to receive forgiveness. That is what confession is. It is not an exercise in spiritual bookkeeping. It is not about compiling a perfect list. It is about repentance, about acknowledging what we are apart from Christ.

And yet, there is also a place, an important and neglected place, for speaking our sins out loud, to another, in private confession. Why is this so difficult for us? Because shame gets in the way. Satan is a master at this. First, he dulls your conscience so that sin seems small, manageable, even justifiable. Then, once it has taken root, he turns and accuses you. He magnifies it. He whispers: “If anyone knew this about you… If the pastor heard this… If God really saw this…” And so you hide. You keep it buried. But unconfessed sin does not die in the darkness. It grows.

You may try to deal with it. You may try to excuse it, justify it, forget it. And perhaps for a time, it seems to fade. But then it returns, unbidden, accusing you, troubling you, weighing on your conscience. St. Jerome once compared unconfessed sin to a hidden wound: if a sick man is ashamed to show his injury to the physician, how can the medicine heal what is not revealed? So it is with sin. A wound that is hidden cannot be treated. Private confession brings that wound into the light. Not to shame you, but to heal you.

And here is something you must hear clearly: there is no sin so ugly, so shocking, so unbelievable that it has not been confessed before. You are not the exception. You are not beyond the reach of Christ’s mercy. What feels monstrous and isolating to you is, in truth, part of the common brokenness of mankind.

In private confession, the pastor listens, not as a judge, but as one called to speak for Christ. He applies the Law honestly, so that sin is not excused or minimized. But then, once sin is confessed, he does what he has been sent to do: he absolves. And that absolution is not a vague hope. It is not a general statement floating somewhere out there. It is concrete. It is personal. It is spoken directly to you: “I forgive you all your sins…” This is the Gospel applied. What Christ won on the cross is delivered into your ears, into your conscience, into your very life.

And you need not fear. The pastor is bound by the seal of the confessional. What is confessed remains there. More than that, it is not merely the pastor who hears you. It is Christ Himself. And it is Christ Himself who forgives you.

Consider how Scripture speaks of that forgiveness. It does not speak in half-measures. It does not say your sins are merely overlooked or set aside for a time. No, your sins are removed from you as far as the east is from the west. Though they were scarlet, they are made white as snow. The Lord blots them out and remembers them no more. He casts them into the depths of the sea. This is what absolution gives you: certainty. Not “I hope I am forgiven.” Not “maybe God will overlook this.” But “I am forgiven.” Here. Now. For this.

And that is why private confession is such a gift. Yes, we have the general confession and absolution in the Divine Service, and thanks be to God for it. But you know how easily the old whispers creep in: “That can’t really apply to this sin… not this one… not me.” And so the burden remains. Private confession answers those whispers. It brings the sin into the light, and then it sends it away. Buried. Drowned. Gone for Jesus’ sake.

So do not let shame keep you away. Do not let fear or pride or habit rob you of this gift. Better to be humbled now, before one man, than to carry that burden until the Last Day. Christ has given His Church this gift for your comfort, for your peace, for your assurance. Use it.

Come. Confess what weighs on you. Hear the words of absolution spoken to you. And go in peace, knowing that your sins are forgiven, not because of who you are, but because of who Christ is and what He has done for you. “I, a poor, miserable sinner…” – yes. That is true. But so is this: “I forgive you all your sins. Go in peace.”

In the + Name of Jesus. Amen.

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