Coming Clean

Psalm 32, Matthew 4:1-11

February 10, 2008

Rochelle A. Stackhouse

As we are in the middle of a presidential election season, I am reminded of the last time we went through this peculiar American exercise. Particularly this week I remembered a town hall meeting style event that President Bush held, where selected people were invited to ask him questions. One person asked the president about what mistakes he thought he had made in his first four years as President. After thinking for a brief time, President Bush said that he couldn’t think of any mistakes.

Now many of us, at that moment, gasped a bit. If we could identify mistakes he had made, then we were quick with criticism. Even people who supported his policies and actions in office, however, were a bit surprised that he thought himself perfect, having made no mistakes. So the criticism among the talk show pundits of all political persuasions and the snide remarks from Jon Stewart and the late night comics shot around the airwaves.

But today, as I think about the scriptures, I have some sympathy for the President. When was the last time you were in front of a small gathering of people, let alone millions watching on TV and someone asked you to name a mistake you had made? Sometimes it happens in job interviews, and good interviewees are taught to name something that can be turned around to look like a strength or follow up the error with a quick recitation of what you learned from the experience. Most of us simply are not asked in any kind of public forum to lay bare our errors, our vulnerabilities, our addictions, our sins. What would you say in the same situation as President Bush?

The Psalm for today urges the people of God not to be afraid to lay bare those errors, vulnerabilities, addictions, sins at least before God, if not before millions of TV viewers. Why? Does God want to gloat at our imperfections? Do we need to be punished for whatever we have done or left undone? Shall we do this so that we become even more convinced of our unworthiness?

Throughout the history of Christianity, all those things have been put forward as reasons to confess, but today I want to lift up why I think the Psalmist is urging us toward this kind of self-examination, traditionally a centerpiece of the season of Lent. It’s related both to Jesus’ first temptation as we heard in Matthew’s gospel today and to verses 6 and 7 of the Psalm. In a nutshell, we are asked to examine ourselves and then move past denial and hiding to lay bare and open our mistakes, vulnerabilities, addictions and sins at least before God so that we may find in God the strength to avoid doing these things in the future, so that we may remove their power over us. Confession is more about our attitudes than our actions. Confession is a gift that allows us to be strengthened and have the ability to live lives unburdened by guilt or fear of discovery over matters large or small. Let me explain.

If we consider errors, addictions, or sins in our lives, I think we will find that often those things are related to particular vulnerabilities we may have. Are you vulnerable to poor self-esteem? Then you are likely to fall prey to pride and arrogance as ways of compensating. Are you vulnerable to one addictive substance or activity or another (anything from alcohol to sex to media, to work)? Then you are likely to fall prey to abusing that substance or activity. Are you vulnerable to worry about not having enough money? Then you are likely to fall prey to greed. Are you vulnerable to fear or cynicism? Then you are likely to be tempted to play it safe and to lose the capacity to rejoice in possibility. Think about it. Where are your vulnerabilities?

Jesus, after fasting for 40 days, was hungry. Any of you who have fasted for even a short time, have a sense of what that kind of hunger can be like. At that point, the tempter, knowing of the hunger, urges Jesus to use his power to create bread. That’s exactly what temptation is; it hits at our most vulnerable places, so that we think we can turn a vice into a virtue. What would it have hurt for Jesus to make some bread? Nothing at all this time. But then he would have set a precedent in his life for using the power that was meant to help others and bring God’s word to the people for his own comfort. If he did it once, he might be likely to do it again, and with greater impact. How might that have made a difference when he faced the cross? Jesus acknowledged his hunger, but then he turned to the scripture to remind himself that it takes more than bread to live. Even when vulnerable, he was able to see the bigger picture. And he trusted God, who, of course, sent angels to minister to Jesus after the tempter departed. Bread came, but it came from God, not by the abuse of power by Jesus.

Temptation hits us where we are most vulnerable, and tries to deceive us into thinking that what we know is not right, is all right. If we understand our vulnerabilities rightly, says the Psalmist, if we are first honest with ourselves, then we need to speak it out loud, to tell God. In the ancient world, there was an understanding that once you knew someone’s true name, you had power over them. Once you name your vulnerability, once you have stopped being in denial or pretending you have total control, once you name it as a weakness and not an inevitability, then you have power to deal with it. Once you name it to God, you give God power to help you. In verses 6 and 7, the Psalmist tells us that when the distress, the “rush of mighty waters” of temptation threaten to overwhelm us, God is our refuge and strength. God is a hiding place where we can turn away from the temptations and find courage and the possibility of other ways to live. If we keep silent; if we pretend we can control our vulnerabilities without help, if we insist that’s “just the way it is,” then the weight of both guilt and the strain of what we do or don’t do can overcome us, as the Psalmist experienced. We drown in that rush of mighty waters.

It is no accident that one of the most important parts of Alcoholics Anonymous or any similar programs is that first step: admit you are powerless over your addiction. The second step is to believe that a power greater than us (for the Christian, that would be God), can restore us to sanity. That is precisely what the Psalmist is advocating here. And it holds not only for severe addictions, but for all the other ways in our lives that we are vulnerable to all kinds of temptations that would lead us away from abundant, free and joyful life, even those temptations that seem, on the surface, to be good things, like Jesus creating bread to relieve his hunger, or like working 80 hours a week to get more money to give your family nice things, or like never taking a risk to stay safe. Freedom does not come first always doing the right things. The last verse of the Psalm says, “Shout for joy, all you upright in heart,” not in action. Freedom comes in seeing our lives through clear lenses, acknowledging where we are vulnerable, then in confession and trust, and the result will be right action.

In commenting on this Psalm, the Biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann writes, “The lucky ones are not those free of transgression, but those able to move beyond it.” That’s a very subtle sentence. No one is free of transgression. If we believe, as Pres. Bush seemed to that day (and I don’t think he really believes this about himself), that we are righteous and have no sin, make no mistakes, then we are not lucky; we are deceiving ourselves and others. When we come clean, then we are given the strength and help to move beyond the sin, and then we are fortunate indeed. God does not need our energy consumed in self-deception or in repetitive error, but in setting about the work of transformation in our lives and the life of our world.

I find the very last verse of the gospel reading for today to be one of the sweetest in all of scripture. The Jerusalem Bible translates it this way: “Then the devil left Jesus, and suddenly the angels came and looked after him.” If, like Jesus, we are aware of our vulnerabilities and turn to God to help us deal with them, then the promise comes to us that God will help to look after us. This is what Jesus promised when he invited us to come to him if we have heavy burdens of guilt or fear or vulnerability or addiction. “Come to me, he said, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Thanks be to God. Take the opportunity this Lent to come clean and find that rest. Amen.