Waiting in line.

Again Jesus said to them, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." After saying this he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit; for those whose sins you forgive, they are forgiven; for those whose sins you retain, they are retained. - John 20:21-23

That particular waiting area outside the confession box is a crucial place. Based on my experience, the hardest part of undergoing the Sacrament of Reconciliation is not the confession itself, but waiting in line for the confession.

Everytime I go to confession (and believe me, it is less frequent than you think), I get jitters waiting on the line to the confession box. My mind would go overboard. It would think one or a few of the following:

1. My sins are so severe. God can never forgive me for this.
2. My sins are not that severe. There's really no need to avail of the sacrament. (I might be bipolar :p)
3. It wretches my ego to tell someone about my innermost secrets. And that someone is also a sinner like me, so what's the point?
4. The priest might scold me. How shameful would it be!
5. The priest would be uninterested to hear my story. He has heard it a thousand times.

And so on.

My mind goes on almost paranoid mode before confession. Add to those items my fears, such as "what if I miss or forget one major sin, and make my confession invalid?" or "what if this is the same priest I encountered in my last confession, and he remembers my sins and gets mad at me for committing them again?" or simply "what if I fail in this confession?"

The waiting area outside the confession box is both a comfortable and uncomfortable place. In that area, I find consolation: people who are as wounded as I am, waiting in line, seeking to be healed in this great infirmary that is the Church, through the great antidote that is the Sacrament, by the ultimate Healer that is Christ. How consoling it is to find a fellow sinner seeking the mercy of God!

But that area is uncomfortable for me too: in this place, all my transgressions are rubbed in so deeply to my conscience. The image of the crucified Christ is a few feet away; it reminds me of the price He have paid  for the offenses I put in my list. Add to the discomfort the uneasiness, the doubts, and the second thoughts of not going to confession at all.

My confession last Wednesday is well-etched on my memory; it was not any ordinary confession (Correction: no confession is ordinary. For grace is always extraordinary!). I started crying while waiting in line for my turn. I don't usually do this! Never, never have I cried like this in confession.

It dawned on me that on the other side of the confessional, the one waiting for me is not just a priest, but CHRIST Himself. He is on the other side of the confessional, and at the same time beside me on my side of the confessional. While He very compassionately listens to my sins, He is actually near me, embracing me. The thought that struck me the most is the fact that confessing my sins to Him is like giving Him His death sentence. "Jesus, I did this, and that. I am sorry." To which He replies, "You are forgiven. Now hold the hammer and start crucifying Me, and I will die in your place."

Reflecting about this while waiting for my turn in the confessional made me shed a few tears. It still sends me shivers down my spine.

Pope Francis told us not to get tired of asking for forgiveness, for He never tires of forgiving us. Let us always avail of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Let us be truly sorry for our sins and find ways on how not to commit them again. May we always pray for each other as we struggle in the path of holiness. All for the greater glory of God!