Confessions of a Sinner

(Luke 23:39-43)

Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, 

by what we have done, 

and by what we have left undone.

By what we’ve left undone . . .

So begins the Prayer of Confession we recite at my church.

Most days I rush right past the things I’ve left undone without much notice or thought.

And other days, well, other days I’m just embarrassed by how much I’ve left undone.

Like today.

Early morning grocery store run.

Short list in hand.

Check, check, check.

Last stop, the condiment aisle.

I smile to the other customer on the aisle, toss a jar of BOGO mayonnaise in my cart, and wheel on.

Except the other customer seems to be speaking.

To me. 

“Nice smile,” he comments.

I turn to thank him.

And look, really look, at him for the first time.

“No one says that to me,” he smiles.

Now I see why.

He’s missing a lot of teeth.

And with that, he pours out his story.

After caring for his disabled wife for a period of years, she died. And in the stress of it all his teeth started falling out. 

Somewhere in his tale, I sense we are not alone. The Lord has joined us.

This feels like more than a random encounter.

I ask if he has a church home.

He shakes his head. 

“Not anymore,” he sighs. 

“God let me down. When my wife died, I lost my faith.”

We talk about that for a bit, I promise to pray for him, and it’s over.

Only it’s not . . . not really.

Because once I get home I realize I left something undone.

Something big.

I should have prayed with him.

On the spot.

Beside the BOGO mayo.

Two Christmas seasons ago I started Luke’s Gospel with a plan to finish on Easter.

Manger-to-resurrection in three months. 

Which didn’t happen.

Because I failed to factor in how much I would fall in love with Luke.

How deeply I would be drawn in.

To soak up and savor.

Every word.

Today, finally nearing the end of his gospel, I open to a conversation Luke records.

Between Jesus and one of the souls hanging on a cross beside him.

A soul who recognizes two truths there.

Who he is . . . hopelessly hopeless.

And who Jesus is . . . his only Hope.

And in so doing, finds his faith.

“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 

Remember me . . .

I picture the heart of Jesus weeping passionate tears. 

Watching the final brush strokes being painted onto the canvas.

Completing the picture of who He is and what He came to do. 

Meet us wherever we are, love us right there . . . and rescue us.

Jesus replied, “I promise you that today you will be in Paradise with Me.”

I wish I’d shared this picture with the soul on the condiment aisle who lost his faith. 

The picture of the soul on the cross.

Who found his.

Instead I wheeled on.

Left something else undone.

Drat. 

Thankfully, a prayer of confession need not end still talking about the sin . . . 

Excluding the mercy of the Savior.

And His invitation to be met where we are.

Hopelessly hopeless.

But forgiven.

Phew. 

See you in a couple weeks.

Love,