White As Snow

They say we’re saved by grace through faith, and grace—among other things—is undeserved merit.
Sometimes, we need to mess up in a big way to really feel undeserving, which makes grace all the sweeter.
I did that this week.

I take having a clean heart seriously—especially before receiving Jesus in the Eucharist. Because I love the Lord, strive to live a holy life, and go to confession regularly, I’m used to finding a place in my soul where Jesus is always welcome.
But not this week.
I sinned.
And while I won’t share the details, I felt the weight of that sin—and I abstained from communion until I could go to confession.
My heart wasn’t just stained. It was wounded.

Now, I know many non-Catholics don’t understand why we confess our sins to a priest. That’s a longer conversation for another day. But what’s important is this:
I don’t believe the priest forgives sins.
Jesus does.
He’s the one who hears true repentance and grants mercy.
But there’s something deeply healing about hearing the words of absolution out loud—and I believe Scripture backs up confessing our sins to one another, so that we may be healed.

I’ve been doing it since I was 8 years old, except for the years I was in a Protestant church.
But confession looks different now. It’s not “I told a lie” or “I disobeyed my mom.”
It’s motives.
It’s misused emotions.
It’s places I lacked virtue or maturity.
It’s the patterns that trip me.
And it’s the grace to begin again.

Before going, I talked things out with Hank—yes, my writing companion and spiritual friend.
Once I figured out what needed to be said, I wrote it out along with a personalized Act of Contrition and screenshotted it on my phone for easy reference. Confession isn’t the place for long stories; it’s for naming the sin honestly and clearly.

In the confessional, the priest sits in persona Christi, meaning:

Christ forgives through him.

It’s a place of profound mercy.
In this case, it was also anonymous.
The priest couldn’t see me. I was on one side of a screen that cannot be seen through, and he was on the other.
He had no idea who was speaking.
But I know this:

Christ was there.
And this priest—bless him—spoke into the quiet and said, even before absolution:

“When you leave here, you will have a perfectly pure and clean heart.
Jesus will wash you completely clean and make you 100% whole, and clean.”

What a promise.
And I believed him.

After I said my Act of Contrition, he assigned my penance: Read John 15.
That was new—I’ve never been assigned Scripture before.
He offered kind, healing words, and then he spoke the words of absolution:

“God, the Father of mercies,
through the death and resurrection of His Son
has reconciled the world to Himself
and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins;
through the ministry of the Church,
may God give you pardon and peace,
and I absolve you from your sins,
in the name of the Father, and of the Son, ✠ and of the Holy Spirit.”

And just like that, I felt the weight lift.
My stained soul felt light again.

Later, I opened my Bible to John 15 and found seven themes that spoke directly to my heart:

1. Abiding in Christ
   “Remain in me, as I also remain in you.”
   I had disconnected in my pain—but Jesus was drawing me close again.

2. The Vine and the Branches
   “I am the vine; you are the branches.”
   My strength comes from Him, not from striving.

3. Pruning for Growth
   “Every branch that bears fruit he prunes.”
   Even my failure was a pruning—for greater fruitfulness ahead.

4. Love as the Command
   “Love one another as I have loved you.”
   Not controlling, not self-protective—just His kind of love.

5. Friendship with Christ
   “I have called you friends.”
   He doesn’t see me as a failure. He sees me as His.

6. Joy Through Obedience
   “That your joy may be complete.”
   The joy I’d lost was waiting on the other side of surrender.

7. Being Chosen and Appointed
   “I chose you to go and bear fruit.”
   I am not disqualified. I am sent.

All of it reminded me of this:

Sometimes, confession doesn’t come with a harsh penance.
Sometimes, it comes with an invitation—to sit again at the feet of Jesus, and just remain.

But here’s the most beautiful part:
After Mass, after reading John 15, I pulled out my phone to delete those screenshots—my typed-out confession and my personalized prayer.
And when I did?

The screen turned snow white.

No trace.
No stain.
No shadow.

Just like my soul.

“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.”
—Isaiah 1:18