This post was written for a Fellowship Reformed Church eNewsletter called “Sunday’s Comin'”
In July, we took a family trip with the goal of spending three days in New York City. We chose to stay in New Jersey at a hotel recommended by my Aunt and Uncle who live there. We could then commute into the city by water ferry or driving. On our first night in New Jersey we went to visit my aunt and uncle. We were running a bit early so we stopped to fill up with gas. In New Jersey, you are not allowed to fill up your own vehicle with gas. You need to wait for an attendant who takes care of it for you. Remember those days of full-service gas stations?
Fast forward a few days and we, after some wonderful days in New York City, started driving home. We found that we needed to fill up with gas again in Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania, like Michigan, allows you to fill your own car with gas. So, I got out of the vehicle and started filling up. As I was standing there a lady on the other side of the pump came over and said, “Excuse me. I’m from New Jersey and don’t know how to use this pump or remove the gas cap. Would you be able to help me?” I was happy to do so and showed her how to remove the gas cap from her car, insert the credit card, remove the nozzle from the pump, select the grade of gas, and start filling the tank. She was very appreciative.
As I headed back to my own vehicle, I thought about how helpless it must feel to own a car and not know how to put gas in it. Thankfully, she was willing to admit that she did not know how to do it and then ask for help. It would have been a very different exchange if she would have demanded me to fill up the car with gas by saying, “Excuse me. Fill up my car with gas.” I might have responded by ignoring her or questioning her motives. It was the act of admitting first and asking second that opened my heart to her story and made me more than willing to help.
I remembered this story when I heard Pastor Brian preach about confession this past Sunday. He defined confession as getting honest with self, others, and God about our brokenness. In a way, this woman at the gas pump had to confess that she did not know how to pump gas in order to receive help. I wonder what it might be like if we put ourselves in a similar posture of confession with an area of life where we might feel stuck and helpless. Would we then be able to have the courage to admit or confess in order to receive help or forgiveness and ultimately freedom?
What might you confess this week in order to more fully experience life?
1 Peter 2:4-5 “Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” (NRSV)