Dig Deeper into Sunday’s Gospel: Read Luke 15:1–3,11–32

I keep hearing the thought that I need to make a “general confession.” And I don’t like it. 

A general confession is when you make an appointment to confess all the sins of your life instead of just those committed since your last confession. It requires a deeper examination, a boatload of courage, and quite possibly a glass of wine. As dreadful as it sounds, “making a general confession,” writes Father John Bartunek, “can be an effective way to grow in self-knowledge, such an essential element for spiritual progress.”[1] Of course, I want to grow in self-knowledge and make spiritual progress. I just wish there was a less embarrassing way.

In total transparency, I am ashamed.  I’ve got nearly 55 years of sinful choices and decisions hidden in the dark attic of my soul. I fear that when I tell the priest everything, he will see me differently. Will he be disgusted? Will he think, “I knew it! She’s a fake!” and run away? As I ruminated on the worst-case scenario, I opened to Sunday’s gospel: the prodigal son. And there, in black and white, was the reminder I needed to hear: God never runs away from a penitent heart—He runs hard toward it. 

Is shame preventing you from running to God?

We don’t like to look at our shame; we prefer to hide from it. But shame can’t be hidden—in fact, it thrives in secrecy, wrapping itself around us like a toxic vine. It began in the Garden of Eden (Genesis 3:7) and has been breathing down our necks ever since. I’m not always on the same page as Brené Brown, but I do think her definition of shame is spot on: “the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we’re flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.”[2]  

Has this been your experience? Do you believe that your mistakes have made you less worthy? Does your sin keep you awake at night, pressing heavy on your chest, causing you to cry out, “If only I could go back!”? 

If you answered yes, listen up: you can go back, not to the past, but someplace better: you can go back to the arms of your Father. Contrary to what you may believe, God is not a Father who waits to shame you but a Father who waits to run and embrace you, a Father who sees you from a distance because He has never stopped looking out for you. A God who will not rest until His work in you is complete. (Isaiah 62:7) And when He sees you, just like the prodigal’s father, He will be “moved with compassion” (Luke 15:20). It’s important to note that the Greek word translated as “compassion” is splagchnizomai and it means “to be moved in one's bowels.”[3] It describes a deep, inner stirring, highlighting “the intensity of human emotions, such as love, compassion, and sorrow.”[4] This is why the father and all of heaven rejoiced upon the son’s return, why he told everyone, clothed him in the finest robe, and threw the biggest block party they’d ever seen. 

But it wasn’t supposed to go this way.

According to the Jewish tradition, there was a ceremony called a "kezazah" (Hebrew for “cutting off”) that was held when a person who had severed a connection with family or behaved unacceptably came back home. “The villagers would break pottery at the feet of the individual, symbolizing that they were no longer in community with the returning person. They were breaking relations with him. It was a way of shaming the individual, of making him feel completely empty. Importantly, the ceremony would take place on the outskirts of the village before the individual could make his way back home.”[5] Shaming his son upon return was to be expected.

And maybe this is what I love most about our parable: the reminder that we worship a God of the unexpected, who absorbed all of our shame as He hung on the cross and defeated death. He didn’t die expecting we’d never sin. He died because He knew that we would. Satan delights in our belief that our shame is beyond the reach of God. Shut that lie down and listen to the words of Saint John Chrysostom, who famously said, “Be ashamed when you sin, not when you repent.” 

I don’t know what shame you’re trapped in, but I do know that Lent is the perfect time to break free. Go to your Father. He is waiting for you to arise, and He will never stop waiting. The welcome home party is planned, the feast is prepared, and the best robe is saved for you. 

It’s time to go home.

Food for thought or journaling ...

In the story of the prodigal son, how does the father's unconditional love and forgiveness challenge the way I view my own shame over sin? How might I be like the son, feeling unworthy of forgiveness, and how can I open myself to receiving the grace that God offers?

Lord Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Amen.

P.S. If you want to dive deeper into this parable, check out Lesson 9 in our Bible study Opening Your Heart, "What Are the Limits of Christ’s Forgiveness?" 

[1] Fr. John Bartunek, “What is a General Confession?” spiritualdirection.com, (Accessed March 2025), https://spiritualdirection.com/2018/09/27/what-is-a-general-confession.
[2] Brené Brown, “Shame vs Guilt,” brenebrown.com, (January 15, 2013), https://brenebrown.com/articles/2013/01/15/shame-v-guilt/.
[3] Amanda Williams, “What Does ‘Bowels’ Mean in the Bible?” ChristianWebsite.com, (January 14, 2024), https://www.christianwebsite.com/what-does-bowels-mean-in-the-bible/.
[4] Bible Hub, “Bowels,” biblehub.com, (Accessed March 2025), https://biblehub.com/topical/b/bowels.htm.
[5] Bobby Conway, “Ever Heard of the Kezazah Ceremony?” crossexamined.org, (June 19, 2023), https://crossexamined.org/ever-heard-of-the-kezazah-ceremony/.