Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. [James 5:16]
Last night, I actually got to see this lived out. I was in a meeting that was focused on the direction of our church (we can call it a leadership meeting if you want), and then time was provided to share prayer requests. I went first—my family and I have been broken regarding a potential condition in my 3-year old son. I fought back tears as I shared our fears.
People gathered around me, and prayed. It was wonderful. Wonderful to feel the warmth of a group of people who genuinely cared.
And then the amazing happened.
People started sharing. I mean, really sharing. Sharing areas of brokenness that took amazing courage to bring public. Sharing areas of weakness, of repeated struggles, unafraid of what the others in the room might be thinking, focusing on the healing much more so than the potential embarrassment.
The profound quality of confession, in public (or to a small group, at least), had something transcendent about it—like people were bringing their junk out into the open, a tangible sense of relief as they were doing so.
I think this is what James is talking about when he tells us to confess our sins to each other.
I’ve been in groups (we called them “accountability groups”), where we would have a list of questions that we came up with ourselves—things we wanted others to help us keep in check. When we would meet, we would ask each other the list of questions, then “confess” to each other if we had fallen short, etc.
I’m not inherently against such groups, but I think what I experienced last night had so much more healing in it.
It was voluntary confession.
It was honest people crying out for help.
It was a group of people bringing about the healing power of the resurrection, through prayer, over a broken and contrite person.
It was confession that brought secrets out into the light, right there and then disarming their power over the person.
It was a room of safety—where there was no judgment, just compassion.
It was a room where Christ himself was present, represented by a group of people, confessing, praying, bringing into the light things they have been struggling with for years.
A place of healing.
A place of holiness, where the veil between heaven and earth was so thin, it felt like God himself was breathing healing and community into the room.
It was a moment so sacred, so holy—one I hope we can all experience from time to time—one where grace is the message, confession is the vehicle, and restoration is the result…
