‘Would you like to go to confession now?’ Readers share their stories 

No longer living in fear

With the news of turmoil in Hong Kong and the fear of the new virus, I was feeling very emotionally defeated. Two weeks ago, in my desperation, in the evening, I wrote to Archbishop Miller asking for his help after I did not go to the Sunday Mass, for fear of contracting the virus. Basically, the archbishop said, “we are in God’s good hands” and he will keep us in his prayers.

I was uncomfortable with not going to Holy Mass and probably not going again!

The next morning when I woke up, I heard a voice saying: “Today is Friday and there is Adoration and Benediction of the Holy Eucharist. You go to the Mass.”

I went. After Mass, I looked for Father Claude Makulu to ask if he had time to listen to my confession. The answer was yes!

Father Claude listened very patiently to my confession. The whole time I was inside the confessional I felt God’s love. I was so released, happy again! I knew the Holy Spirit used Father Claude to bring me back to the right path especially when Fr. Claude taught me step by step in the confessional.

I went to Sunday Mass last two weeks.

Thanks to Dear Lord, God is merciful!

                                                                                                                                          — Mary

Welcome back!

I was living in New Orleans in the 1990’s.  I had attended Mass, but not always every Sunday and I had not been to confession for 12 years! I had met my new neighbour and she was Catholic so I started attending Mass with her regularly. When she found out I hadn’t been to confession for so long, she was insistent that I go and make a good confession. I was super nervous to go! I prepared my list of sins (lots of them!) and I went. I started the format and then said I had not been to confession for 12 years. 

What the priest said next is what completely relaxed me and what I want your readers to hear so they might feel confident to go to confession if they haven’t been for a long time. When I stated the  length of time since my last confession, there was a slight pause, and then a loud, happy response from the priest: “WELCOME BACK!” 

He was very kind, patient and helpful.

                                                                                                                                — Lorraine

Answered prayer

A few years ago, I attended Mass at Westminster Abbey. Near the end, I remembered this prayer: “Lord, please reveal to me what you want to reveal to me in this Mass.” It was before Communion, but I decided to pray it anyway.

I was not in a state of grace at the time, so I prepared to receive a blessing. I bowed, walked up to the priest with my hands folded at my chest, and waited for the usual blessing. Instead, the priest paused, and asked me a question: “Are you Catholic?”

Surprised, I replied “yes.” He asked if I wanted to go to confession, which I did. Then, he said that he would be waiting for me after Mass. Walking back to my pew, I was in awe at how Christ answered my prayer almost instantly. I went to confession that day, after being away from the sacrament for many years.

To this day, I still don’t know who that priest was or why he asked me that question. I may never know, but I am thankful for God changed my life in that encounter. Like the “prodigal son,” this daughter is now back Home.

                                                                                                                      — Emi Namoro

“There’s something you’re not saying”

A few years ago, I decided to sneak in a confession before heading to work, in hopes of avoiding the line-up at our parish’s Ash Wednesday Mass later that evening.

I was the first and only one in line that morning. I “did the motions” of the sacrament, listing off my sins. Just as I ended my list with “That’s it, Father,” my confessor responded quickly with a “There’s something you’re not saying. If there’s someone you trust that you can talk to, talk to them. You can also speak with me. Just call the parish office to set up a time.”

I was surprised, but not afraid. A few months prior to this confession, I was prayed over by a healing ministry. At that time, one of the women praying over me sensed that Jesus was trying to tell me all these wonderful things, but I couldn’t hear him because something was blocking my relationship with him and I needed to speak it out.

Four days after Ash Wednesday, I met the priest for the first time, not quite sure what I needed to tell him. I started recounting my experience with the healing ministry, and he said, “That’s interesting because that is EXACTLY how I felt when you came for confession that morning.”

For the next 15 minutes, I sobbed and spoke out what had been weighing on my heart for the past 7 years – a hurt that started to fester as deep-seated resentment. I didn’t realize how much unforgiveness was keeping me from my relationship with Jesus, and from being fully present in the genuine friendships God had placed in my life.

After my meeting with the priest, I couldn’t help but sigh again and again, as if a weight was physically leaving my body and my spirit. Even if I still struggle with resentment in some aspects, I am now hopeful that Jesus always desires to set us free from its bonds.

To God be the glory for those who help us reconcile with our Lord, and for those who are docile to His Holy Spirit.
                                                                                                                                            —  Marie

It’s never too late

I recently read your responses from priests who were asked for their favourite confession story. Allow me to share mine.

My father was reared in a devout Catholic family, served at the altar as a youth, enjoyed the outdoors more than the classroom, and grew to be a kind and very caring man; his smile could light up a room. He chose a career with his family in mind, traded in his treasured Volkswagen Bug for a station wagon and, later in life, volunteered his time at the crisis centre helpline. He also struggled with depression and alcohol, which ultimately contributed to the loss of his wife and family, his job, and his sense of self-worth.

As his elder daughter, I have the fondest memories of Dad before the worst of his struggles, and had the privilege of reconnecting with him as a young adult. He white-knuckled his sobriety for over 30 years, but late in his senior years, Dad lost his brave but solitary battle and turned again to substance use. When he lost his housing, we found an apartment for him in White Rock within walking distance of Good Shepherd Church. I wish I could say he accepted my invitation to come to Mass with me. The answer was always the same, “It’s too late for me.”

 Then one morning in March, I received a call from Peace Arch Hospital. My father had been found unconscious on his apartment floor; could I come?

Incoherent for hours after I arrived, he finally began responding to treatment. I gently asked if I could call a priest for him. Miracle of miracles, he agreed that, yes, he would like that.

Praise God! I went to work trying to find a priest, knowing that my father was improving but still critically ill.

It was the afternoon of Easter Vigil.

Understanding that priests are often consumed with the practices of Holy Week and parish preparations for large Easter celebrations, I was almost surprised when a priest answered Star of the Sea’s after-hours number and so thankful the holy man who answered the call graciously agreed to leave his church to come to my father’s bedside.

 The priest arrived with a warm greeting and sat down with Dad. What they exchanged I would not want to know, but as the priest prepared to leave, he quietly shared with me the good news of my father’s return to the Church. He was looking forward to seeing my father after his recovery.

I can’t begin to express how happy I was to hear those words! Dad was lucid and improving, and receiving the healing hand of God.

Some hours later, conditions worsened quickly, and my dear Dad quietly passed from this kingdom to the next. I just happened to have the Divine Mercy booklet in my backpack, an impulse purchase from the Sunday before, so I prayed with my father knowing that Jesus was standing at his bedside, “not as the just Judge but as the merciful Saviour.”

At that moment, instead of mourning my father, I felt a great sense of calm. I was resting with him in the most divine peace of Jesus Christ. God had gifted me too, as witness to the compassionate providence of God who accompanies us in our suffering and loves us always, every one of us, by name, even when we can’t love ourselves.

After some time, I left my father in the care of the hospital and started the drive home. I suppose I was still disoriented; I had expected to pick up my Dad from a routine hospital visit and instead I was leaving without him.

Somehow I ended up in the parking lot of my church. The Vigil Mass had already started. Coming straight from the hospital I was still in jeans and running shoes, but I quietly slid inside the entrance of the church just to listen to the Mass. As I entered the darkened church, the bells began ringing, the Gloria erupted from the congregation, and all was suddenly brightly illuminated; God himself reaching down from heaven to offer us a reflection of his glory and the place he has prepared for us.

I wish I could tell you the name of the priest who came to the hospital that afternoon, or that I even adequately conveyed my eternal gratitude for his extraordinary visit, for my Dad’s conversion, and for the opportunity to be a firsthand witness to God’s great mercy in the exercise of his sacraments.

I’m hoping perhaps he’ll read this and know in his heart how very precious we hold each and every priest and his ministry of sacramental grace which returns us – the sinful, suffering, and estranged – to the heart of the Father and the communion of the Church.

Never too late. Never without hope. Never beyond the reach of the redemptive love of Jesus Christ.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         —Anonymous

Something new?

I was in the confessional and started complaining to my parish priest that I was tired of always having the same sins to confess.
He responded: “What? You want to do something new?!”
                                                                                                                                   — B. Chapman

Return to the confessional

At the recent Archdiocese of Vancouver men’s retreat, one of the participants had been away from Mass for several years and away from the confessional for decades. He had an amazing experience of God at the retreat. As a group of men gathered in a sitting room sharing their experiences of the retreat, the older gentlemen who had a profound experience said, “My only regret this weekend was that I didn’t get a chance to go to confession.”

Fortunately, a priest was sitting with the group and, with tender strength, asked him, “Would you like to go to confession right now?”

 The man immediately said, “Yes, thank you,” and in the presence of the other men was about to confess his sins.

“Whoa, whoa!” some of the men said in a loving but abrupt tone. “Let us leave the two of you alone.”

The priest helped the man rise from his chair and together they went to a private place where confession was heard after an absence of several decades.
                                     — Brett Powell, Archbishop’s Delegate for Development and Ministries,                                                                                                                     Archdiocese of Vancouver

As we prepare for upcoming Archdiocese of Vancouver reconciliation services, we're sharing memorable stories of the sacrament of reconciliation. Your story, life-changing or inspiring, funny or offbeat, might inspire someone who has been putting off their return to the sacrament. Please email your confession experience, 100 to 200 words, to [email protected]. They may be signed or anonymous. Take a look at these confession stories to see what others have had to say.