Confession of the Purple Shirt

 

“Good morning,” she said. 

 

“Morning,” I said. 

 

“I like your shirt. It’s purple.” 

 

I should have said, “Thank you! I wore it for Lent,” and left it at that. 

 

Instead, I launched into this story. 

 

“Last Wednesday, 

I was looking through my closet for something to wear 

When I decided on this shirt. 

As I was taking it off the hanger, 

I noticed that it was a little dirty. 

So I took it off the hanger and laid it on the stool so I could wash it. 

Well, this morning, 

I went into my closet to get something to wear 

And I saw this shirt sitting on the stool. 

I got excited because it was purple 

So I put it on. 

I thought it had just fallen off its hanger. 

I didn’t realize it was dirty until I got to Lidl. 

When I saw it this morning, 

I totally forgot I had set it aside for washing. 

So. I have on a dirty shirt.”

 

To which she simply responded, “Well. I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t said anything.”

 

🤦🏻‍♀️

 

At JazzTales on Monday morning,

We couldn’t get the visuals to work. 

We tried and tried but nothing was working 

Yet no one buy the presenters knew how it was supposed to be. 

If we would have just gone on with the show without highlighting the missing visuals 

Then no one would have ever known the difference. 

Because we confessed, though, 

The missing visuals became more missed, 

Just like my dirty shirt became more obvious. 

 

Confession is important. 

Examining ourselves for the ways our thoughts and actions have gone sideways 

Is crucial for personal and spiritual growth. 

Knowing that we have been forgiven is freeing and 

Releases us from the damning grips of shame. 

 

And yet. 

Why do we feel the need to save face with confessions like the purple shirt? 

 

God. 

Help us to know when to speak and when to remain silent. 

Help us to confess when we need to confess and not just to talk to explain or justify our thoughts and actions. 

You are the Word. 

Help us to be little examples of your word. 

 

Amen.