Merciful and Most Righteous Father, Searcher of hearts, before whose gaze no shadow survives, yesterday I acknowledged my distance. Today I kneel within it. I do not come to explain myself. I do not come to negotiate consequences. I come to confess. Not selectively. Not defensively. But truthfully. Father, I name what I can — though even this is only a fraction of what is known to You.
I confess my sins — those remembered and those forgotten, those committed in weakness and those committed in wilfulness. I confess that I have not loved You with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my strength, with all my mind. My love has been divided. My obedience delayed. My surrender partial. I confess the pride that persuades me I am self-sufficient. The subtle arrogance that resists correction. The interior posture that prefers autonomy to submission.
I confess the anger I have justified as righteousness. The resentment I have rehearsed in private chambers of thought. The judgments I have passed quickly and the mercies I have withheld slowly. I confess the words spoken too sharply, the silence kept when courage was required, the truth softened to preserve approval.
I confess the habits that entangle me — patterns I revisit knowing they diminish me. I confess the compromises I call “practical,” the indulgences I label “harmless,” the procrastination of obedience I excuse as “timing.” I confess apathy — that most dangerous coldness of the soul. The times I knew what was right and chose comfort instead.
Holy and Immortal God, my soul trembles as I bring my darkness into the blinding radiance of Your holiness. I do not merely confess actions. I confess my bent nature. There is within me a curvature toward self — a gravitational pull away from You. Even my virtue seeks recognition. Even my generosity sometimes seeks applause. Even my discipline hides self-congratulation. I have nurtured bitterness until it felt justified. I have rehearsed grievances until they felt righteous. I have guarded my ego more fiercely than my purity.
I have sought the approval of men while forgetting that I live i Christ — before the face of God. I confess the sins beneath the sins: fear that disguises itself as control; insecurity that masquerades as ambition; greed clothed as prudence; and pride disguised as conviction. I confess my indifference to Your suffering love. Christ bore wounds — and I have been casual about them. He emptied Himself — and I cling. He forgave — and I calculate. I have pierced Your heart not only with rebellion, but with neglect.
O Lord, I confess the sins I do not see. The blind spots I defend. The motives I rationalize.
The hypocrisies I have grown comfortable with. Cleanse not only my record — but my desires. Not only my conduct — but my cravings. Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy. Let the fire of Your holiness consume the dross of duplicity within me. Expose what is false. Break what is hardened. Melt what is frozen. Do not leave me half-healed. Do not allow me partial repentance.
I place my sin where it belongs — at the foot of the Cross. I refuse to carry into tomorrow what You died to remove. Let confession become cleansing. Let sorrow become conversion. Let exposure become freedom. Strip me of illusion. Strip me of self defense. Strip me of pride. Until only truth remains. Until only surrender remains. Until only grace remains.
Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Your steadfast love; according to the multitude of Your tender mercies, blot out my transgressions – for I ask on account of the salvific blood of Christ, our Mediator and Redeemer. Amen
