Face to Face?
"The Lord would speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend."
Exodus 33:11
I was thirteen years old, and about to face what felt like one of the most difficult challenges of my young life.
I nervously shifted my weight from right to left and back again as I waited in line for my turn in one of the small confessional booths on the west side of the church sanctuary.
The priest sat behind a small, closed door in a booth the size of a small bedroom closet. His booth was flanked by two others, which church members could enter for a time of confession with him. One booth had a screen between you and the priest, so your time could feel more anonymous. The other had no screen – you and the priest could see one another. When your turn came you chose whichever side you preferred – screen, or face-to-face.
An older woman emerged from the screened booth and made her way toward the pews in the back of the church. It was my turn now. With a line of folks behind me, there was no escaping. Reluctance slowly gave way to bravery, and I moved toward the booths. Twenty steps felt like two hundred. I replayed in my head my carefully selected set of sins to confess. Nothing too personal or embarrassing – just enough to carry me through the two minutes of sheer awkwardness that surely waited in the booth. And then there was one final choice I had to make …
Screen, or face-to-face?
As I pulled the curtain aside to enter the screened booth, I was resolved to be dutifully honest. But how could I be? I hardly understood my shortcomings or my pain, let alone what God really expected of me. Nevertheless, I faced my fears and knelt down stiffly on the hard padding, my face just inches from the metallic screen. Through its small holes I could faintly make out a shadowy profile of a man, backlit by a dim yellowed light. Dutifully trained, I began with the standard salutation:
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six months since my last confession."
"Hi Matt! So good to see you."
"What? … Father, is that you?"
"No, it's me, Jesus."
"Jesus?"
"Yes. Here I am."
"Really?!"
"Yup. I thought I'd give Father Kane a Saturday off … he's been working so hard lately."
"I …. I don't know what to say. It's really you?"
"It's really me. How have you been, Matt? How are you holding up with your mom being so sick lately?"
"Ummm … no one has ever asked me about that. I'm … fine. … Well, … no. I … I don't really know how I am. Mom's been so sick for such a long time. I guess I just try to keep things quiet and never be a bother. But … it's hard."
Thus began my unexpected conversation with Jesus. His patient demeanor made me feel unexpectedly safe as he led me into the most honest and real territory I'd ever been in. We chatted for a long while. He was in no rush, and I was soaking in the sweet feeling of this personal connection with him. He calmly entered my confusing world, gently asked me questions without leading or judging, and helped me verbalize thoughts and feelings that had been locked inside for a very long time.
Jesus didn't say that he was going to make everything better. Nor did he make excuses, or explain why things had to be so hard. Instead, he mostly listened and made me feel heard and known and loved. A few times he gave me a glimpse into how he could relate to what I was struggling with. He knew what it was like to sometimes not be heard or loved by others. And he knew the pain of facing great hardship. I felt a kindred spirit as we talked, and that made it feel safe to open up and give a voice to things I had unknowingly kept bottled up.
While I had never encountered him this personally before, he somehow felt like a true, long-time friend. As you might expect, I didn't want our time together to end. But after sharing much encouragement and a little advice, he bid me farewell, while assuring me we could talk like this anytime I wanted.
As I opened the curtain, I noticed that the line of folks that had been in the sanctuary waiting behind me was gone. Where did they go? A strange thought crossed my mind: Could they have somehow just met with Jesus at the same time as I was with him? Hmmm.
As I walked out of the church and into the fresh Spring air, I felt a deep sense of joy and wholeness. The day-to-day life I was stepping back into was no different – part wonderful and part difficult. But I sensed that I no longer had to go it alone.
I thought to myself, "Next time I'll choose face-to-face."
[scroll down for author’s reflections and some questions to ponder]
Author’s Reflection
The stiffness or realness with which we experience any religious practice is much about our faith – our heart's stance and our willingness to encounter the person of God. God welcomes us to turn toward him through things like confession, communion, sermons, prayer, old worship hymns, bible studies, and so on. If we lean into these Christian practices, whatever their style or denominational brand, we can encounter Jesus there, waiting to meet us where we really are. Faith meets reality. "Hi Matt! So good to see you!"
In all my boyhood years of dutiful church attendance, it never occurred to me that I could simply talk to God and be real with him. My awkward times in the confessional booth never felt like they brought me face-to-face with Jesus. Nor did Sunday mass or bedtime prayers. I don’t blame this on the church tradition I grew up in. I think I just wasn't ready. But I do wonder how my early years might have been very different if something like the encounter with Jesus that I imagined in my story above had actually happened. But God is the author of our lives and our faith, and for whatever reason he chose to have me wake up to realness with him much later in life.
For me, it wasn't until I was in my late thirties that I first experienced times with God that felt like we were "face-to-face." Before that my relationship with him was rather “arm's-length.” By my late twenties I no longer went to a church that practiced formal confession. But even in the subsequent denominations of churches I attended, I was still faced with a similar choice … hold back and keep my true self deep inside, or step out and be vulnerable with God and with others who feel safe. In other words … screen or face-to-face?
In my subsequent stories you'll hear a little more about my meandering journey toward realness with God. But first, I'd like to ask about your faith journey. Where are you in terms of realness with God? I hope you are well along, and perhaps I can learn from you. To help you reflect on this a bit, there are a few questions below. And then at the bottom of this page there's a box where you could jot me a note – because I would value hearing some of your story, or any feedback you may have.
REFLECT:
Have you ever felt distant from God when you participated in religious practices? What memories do you have of those experiences and how you felt about them? What are you feeling now as you think about this?
Can you recall times when you have felt like you interacted with God more personally? What were the circumstances that brought you closer to God that way?
If you somehow found yourself unexpectedly sitting with Jesus in person, what would you value talking to him about?
One of the last things Jesus said to his close friends was, “I am with you always.” (Mt 28:20) Since he is ever so close by, my gentle encouragement to you (and reminder to myself as well) is to simply start talking to him. Perhaps you're already good at this. Or if not, maybe you could start right now with something like, "Hi God! So good to see you. Can we chat?" His answer will be "Yes" … and much more.
How’d you feel about the “Face-to-Face” story?
I’d appreciate hearing your impressions and feedback below. Or send me a message about your own spiritual journey thus far, and where you hope it will lead you.
