A friend and colleague recently asked ChatGPT what it knows about him that he does not know about himself, which made me wonder: how many of us are brave enough to ask the same question? In an age of smartphones, smart TVs, and even smarter algorithms, technology has become a mirror that often sees us better than we see ourselves. It knows what we say, what we search for, where we linger, and what we long to hear. In the attention economy, this hard data has become a commodity for corporations and governments. But if we, like my colleague, were to ask our colleagues and communities, “What do you see that I may not see about myself?” could these hard truths transform us, our relationships, and our witness? In short, could contending with and confessing our weakness be our greatest strength?
Now imagine the church doing the same. Rather than defending or deflecting hard truths, what if the church in the United States modeled not only Peter’s confession of Jesus as Lord but also Paul’s encouragement to the church in Corinth to confess its own weakness and sins?
Being over fifty, I was formed in the era of apologetics. I read the books, learned the arguments, and memorized the biblical references most cited in debates. This was, in many ways, a modernist approach to discipleship and evangelism—to know about Jesus. About twenty-five years ago, I encountered postmodern approaches exemplified by programs like Alpha, where the focus shifted from providing answers to creating space for questions—learning with Jesus. Now, in what is being called the post-postmodern age, people are moving beyond questions and answers. They are looking for evidence in the church itself, examining not just the church’s intentions but also whether it is willing to acknowledge its impact, both present and historical. This begs the question: is the world looking not just for a confessional church but for a confessing church? Not one that merely proclaims Jesus but one that looks like Jesus—and confesses when it doesn’t?
I confess that although I have found great fruit in this model of discipleship and evangelism over the past ten years, it has been the call of liberation theologians—from South America and South Africa to the Deep South of the United States—for much longer. Like ChatGPT did for my friend, they have named the truths the institutional church has failed to see and confess about itself, offering hard data and hard truths.
But information is not formation. Many barriers stand between knowing and being changed. Depending on our worldview—whether shaped by innocence/guilt, honor/shame, or power/fear—we can be resistant to hearing these truths, whether they come from a colleague, a community, a counselor, or the canon itself. But praise God that in Christ, we have an antidote to the underbelly of all three. Therefore, let us be consoled and coaxed by Christ to confess without condemnation, shame, or fear.
In my context and lifetime, discipleship and evangelism have often centered on finding answers and holding space for questions. As the world looks for evidence of the kingdom of God in the church, perhaps it is time to create space for a confessing church—one that names where we have fallen short of Christ’s call. One that acknowledges where we have yet to embody mission integral. One that can confess where we have given a preferential option to the rich instead of the poor, where we have prioritized earthly citizenship over our shared citizenship in heaven. One that, like me, has sometimes chosen the drug of rightness over the robe of righteousness.
Whatever the case or the barrier in this postcolonial, post-postmodern age—an era flooded with both information and misinformation—the church is being called to deeper formation. One in which we cultivate safe and courageous spaces for confession, both personally and corporately. One in which we not only proclaim Christ but also embody our longing to be like Jesus and our need for grace when we fall short.
As the Covenant, we have been unique among denominations in that we are a non-confessional church in doctrine. But what if we were known in practice as a confessing church?
Commentary
Confession as Formation and Proclamation
Could Authentic Confession Be the Key to Effective Evangelism?
A friend and colleague recently asked ChatGPT what it knows about him that he does not know about himself, which made me wonder: how many of us are brave enough to ask the same question? In an age of smartphones, smart TVs, and even smarter algorithms, technology has become a mirror that often sees us better than we see ourselves. It knows what we say, what we search for, where we linger, and what we long to hear. In the attention economy, this hard data has become a commodity for corporations and governments. But if we, like my colleague, were to ask our colleagues and communities, “What do you see that I may not see about myself?” could these hard truths transform us, our relationships, and our witness? In short, could contending with and confessing our weakness be our greatest strength?
Now imagine the church doing the same. Rather than defending or deflecting hard truths, what if the church in the United States modeled not only Peter’s confession of Jesus as Lord but also Paul’s encouragement to the church in Corinth to confess its own weakness and sins?
Being over fifty, I was formed in the era of apologetics. I read the books, learned the arguments, and memorized the biblical references most cited in debates. This was, in many ways, a modernist approach to discipleship and evangelism—to know about Jesus. About twenty-five years ago, I encountered postmodern approaches exemplified by programs like Alpha, where the focus shifted from providing answers to creating space for questions—learning with Jesus. Now, in what is being called the post-postmodern age, people are moving beyond questions and answers. They are looking for evidence in the church itself, examining not just the church’s intentions but also whether it is willing to acknowledge its impact, both present and historical. This begs the question: is the world looking not just for a confessional church but for a confessing church? Not one that merely proclaims Jesus but one that looks like Jesus—and confesses when it doesn’t?
I confess that although I have found great fruit in this model of discipleship and evangelism over the past ten years, it has been the call of liberation theologians—from South America and South Africa to the Deep South of the United States—for much longer. Like ChatGPT did for my friend, they have named the truths the institutional church has failed to see and confess about itself, offering hard data and hard truths.
But information is not formation. Many barriers stand between knowing and being changed. Depending on our worldview—whether shaped by innocence/guilt, honor/shame, or power/fear—we can be resistant to hearing these truths, whether they come from a colleague, a community, a counselor, or the canon itself. But praise God that in Christ, we have an antidote to the underbelly of all three. Therefore, let us be consoled and coaxed by Christ to confess without condemnation, shame, or fear.
In my context and lifetime, discipleship and evangelism have often centered on finding answers and holding space for questions. As the world looks for evidence of the kingdom of God in the church, perhaps it is time to create space for a confessing church—one that names where we have fallen short of Christ’s call. One that acknowledges where we have yet to embody mission integral. One that can confess where we have given a preferential option to the rich instead of the poor, where we have prioritized earthly citizenship over our shared citizenship in heaven. One that, like me, has sometimes chosen the drug of rightness over the robe of righteousness.
Whatever the case or the barrier in this postcolonial, post-postmodern age—an era flooded with both information and misinformation—the church is being called to deeper formation. One in which we cultivate safe and courageous spaces for confession, both personally and corporately. One in which we not only proclaim Christ but also embody our longing to be like Jesus and our need for grace when we fall short.
As the Covenant, we have been unique among denominations in that we are a non-confessional church in doctrine. But what if we were known in practice as a confessing church?
Cheryl Lynn Cain
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