'Fessing Up

It's Saturday morning, that hallowed time of week where I can lay in bed a little. Having risen, I find myself in the following situation: there's jasmine on the breeze, a silky smooth latte from Le Chien before me, and two thirds of The Age crossword completed, for which praise is due. (I was particularly pleased that I knew the Temple of Artemis had been in Ephesus. Oh, alright, I knew because of playing Civilization IV, but that doesn't make my knowledge any less laudable.) It is altogether a goodly beginning to the day; made particularly pleasant because of the hectic week that's been, which included, but was not limited to, report writing, exam marking, curriculum planning, vet visiting, dentist visiting, vaccinations, and General Deadly Tiredness.


The major consequence of General Deadly Tiredness is that I stop actively participating in my own life. My bedroom enters a chaotic state, my diet becomes limited to whatever's in the freezer, I don't write, I don't pray, and my connection with friends and family suffer because conversations become fraught with effort. Sometimes it seems that General Deadly Tiredness and depression have a kind of symbiotic relationship which is stronger than my relationship with God, and it takes a sweetly scented Saturday morning, like this one, where I have space and time, to work at restoring myself to mental and spiritual health. This restoration is done primarily through the act of confession, which is why I often find myself writing in my diary or on my blog at such times (in case you were ever wondering why many of my updates are on Saturday mornings, well, now you know!)


Which leads me to thinking about the central importance of confession in Christian life. Not just the confession of sins: the repeated confession of faith through worship, witness and prayer. The Apostle James said that faith without works is dead. It is equally true, at least for myself, that faith without words is dead. My faith hungers for expression. When I am tired, I stop expressing myself to God and to those around me; ergo, my faith becomes weak.  


Perhaps that's one reason why I like to participate in liturgy; it gives me good words when I am struggling for them. But even better than that, I have the Psalms.