Confessing the Sin of Lip Service
If you Confess, He will Forgive
In every child’s classroom, a speakerbox hangs just below the drop-down ceiling. With its all-seeing eye, the speaker looms above, ever watchful over the souls of children. Its gaping mouth holds absolute authority in the classroom. It exercised its sway over our lives every hour when it delivered the resounding bell that controlled our days—though, in my school, it wasn’t much of a bell. I wished for a satisfying ring, but instead, we had a baritone beep, an octave lower than it should have been. These speakers wielded immense power over teachers and students alike—a kind of school omnipotence. It didn’t matter how important the lesson was or if you were in the middle of a test. If the Voice of God spoke through the classroom speaker, Office Law demanded immediate compliance.
[Click - Ssshhh] [Female Voice - The Mother of All] “Excuse me, Mrs. Coles, I need to see Bo Kyle in the office.”
[A Stoppage in Time] Instantaneous thought: “This could be extremely good or extremely bad. Heaven or Hell is at stake. I could be blamed for this week’s crude drawings in the third-grade boys’ bathroom. (Who signs their work on toilet art? Idiot!) Or maybe, by some miracle, I’ll get out of school early. My parents could surprise me with a trip to Disney World!”
[Time In] Mrs. Mother: “Bo needs to see the nurse to take his Ritalin.”
Oh. “That explains a lot.”
There was nothing more important for those speakers than the morning announcements. Like the sunrise, our school receptionist/secretary/nurse would deliver the daily report. And at the end, she’d say the words of enchantment: “Would all rise for the Pledge of Allegiance.” Compelled by a will beyond our own, our legs instinctively stood at attention. Little hands covered the left breast pocket where we thought our hearts were located, and we listened to the student-led Pledge of Allegiance. (Did anyone else struggle with the word indivisible? For me, it came out in-da-biz-za-ble.) And, Lord of Heaven and Earth, how did those lucky kids get to say the pledge? I think I said it once in elementary school. Think being the keyword—because it might have been a vivid childhood dream.
I remember—or dreamed—that I was standing in the office, staring up at the huge counter where I’m sure the microphone was used to direct space traffic for the Apollo missions. I was reverent and terrified. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and my heart nearly pounded out of my left breast pocket. And that’s all I remember. Maybe it went off without a hitch! Maybe 1,000 kids laughed at me because I said in-da-biz-za-ble in front of the entire school. Or perhaps I blacked out, and the receptionist/secretary/nurse wheeled me back to homeroom on a stretcher. I don’t know! But life was never the same. I was famous—whether in reality or my imagination makes no difference—because I had said the Pledge to the entire school.
The Pledge of Allegiance is one of those sacred sayings every American knows without realizing it. It’s imprinted on us through years of homeroom announcements. We’d stand, find the flag (always near the speaker, thus granting the speakerbox presidential authority), and recite our loyalty to America. This ritual became second nature. In kindergarten, I stood straight and tall like a tiny American soldier, ready to defeat the tyranny of homework in Jesus’ name. But as years passed, my stance slackened, slumped, and finally slouched. By high school, I probably didn’t even know where the flag was in the room. I’m sure I said the words, but by then, that’s all they were—words. The pledge became timeworn, passé, old hat. I said the words, but I never said the words.
And that’s the experience I want to discuss: saying but not saying. In late 2017, I started a series of confessions designed to break down, line by line, the Apostles’ Creed. Why? Because as one of the pastors at FPC Meridian, I lead the congregation in confessing the Apostles’ Creed every Sunday. Did you catch that? Every. Single. Sunday. This repetition isn’t a bad thing, but it can become rote. So, to spark new life into this ancient creed, I decided to dive into it during my confession of sin homilies. Thus begins this Substack Confession of Sin series, based on the Apostles’ Creed. I pray we learn to say the words, so we can say the words.
I first memorized the Apostles’ Creed with my mom—an amazing, beautiful, faithful believer in Jesus. (She’s probably tearing up as she reads this and just turned off her phone because she’s overwhelmed.) But it’s true. She’s awesome. Mothers have an instinctual drive to pass on spiritual truths. I remember standing in my parents’ bathroom getting ready for school while my mom coached me on the creed. I recall driving to school in her car, which had a dark blue interior and massive radio knobs. [Sidenote: I remember the knobs because, for the first time in car history, they accomplished two things. You could push them to turn the radio on or off, AND you could turn them to adjust the volume! Amazing technology, people!] She’d turn onto Hwy 90, push the knob to turn off 94.5 KSMB and ask me to recite the Apostles’ Creed.
I wish I could say I memorized it instantly—I didn’t. It would be years before my neurons made room for it, but the creed was first passed down from mother to son.
There are good reasons to commit this old creed to memory. The Apostles’ Creed is believed to have been written in 341 AD, making it 1,684 years old. Without blinking, I can say this creed holds the essential theology from which all true churches originate. My church, FPC Meridian, has likely recited the creed since its founding in 1858. And we continue that good tradition today because the creed begins with two transformative words: “I believe.” Those words turn rote memory into a transformative confession. They also carry a challenge: Do I truly believe what I confess?
The confession begins, “I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth.” In just four words, we encounter a profound declaration of faith: “I believe in God.” This belief acknowledges that there is more to this world than meets the eye. The universe didn’t happen by chance. God’s artistry is painted across nature: the vastness of the ocean, the rhythm of the seasons, or the breathtaking sight of thousands of blackbirds flying in rhythmic harmony. God’s love is seen in the eyes of your children, your parents, siblings, spouse, and friends. In moments of joy and awe, you experience the divine reality that God is real and everywhere.
Apostles’ Creed goes further by describing God as “the Father.” He is not only the almighty creator of heaven and earth but also a personal and loving Abba. It’s creedal to believe our Heavenly Father is deeply invested in us. He is the archetypal parent who loves His children. A mistake I often make is thinking of a father’s role as temporary, lasting only while a child grows. But earthly fathers last a lifetime, and our Heavenly Father is ours for all eternity. Almighty God is not just supreme over all creation but also our Papa, who condescends to us with perfect human affection.
If God is truly God, then we are not. When we confess the Apostles’ Creed and say, “I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth,” we are acknowledging our limitations. We control 0% of the universe, and this world does not depend on us. But for those who believe in our Father God Almighty’s hand, there is great comfort. We trust in “one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all” (Ephesians 4:6).
As is our custom, I invite you to join the other readers in a corporate confession of sin. Let’s pray:
Gracious Father, we confess that we often speak words of belief without fully living their truth, letting routine replace reverence in our hearts. Forgive us for seeking control and significance apart from You, forgetting that You are our Almighty Creator and loving Abba. Teach us to humbly trust in Your authority and love, and let our words reflect true faith in Your eternal care.
Thanks for praying; God Bless You! I hope you’ll read and pray with us next Saturday at 10 a.m. A word of thanks below to my paid subscribers!
This is LONG OVERDUE—thank you to everyone who has become a paid subscriber! While it’s not required, your support is a huge encouragement to me. In the future, I plan to highlight these amazing subscribers here. THANK YOU—what a neat and unexpected blessing! Funny story (of course):
With some of the support, I bought a cheap suit from China. I got caught up in a Facebook ad, got antsy, and made the purchase. Then, I saw my money went to some company in China. I immediately regretted the purchase and briefly thought my bank account had been hacked. TBD on how this turns out… I may have already lost your money. 🤣
I also guiltlessly bought a Red Ryder BB gun. I’m officially going through a cheap midlife crisis. 🎯
Thank You:
Amy | Rogers’ | Bill | Long’s | Bart | Bridget | Beverly P | Warden’s | Larry | Beverly G | Linda | Schuurmans ❤️❤️❤️
Maybe we should get an intercom system at our house for morning announcements…