Breaking Free from Repeated Sins

How to approach Confession like St. Francis De Sales

Recently, a priest friend of mine asked me to assist him at a Lenten retreat.

The theme of the Retreat was Ignatian, however, not the founder of the Jesuits, but rather Ignatius of Antioch. 

Ignatius of Antioch famously compared himself to the Eucharist: living bread wholly consecrated to the Lord meant to be blessed, broken, and shared. 

On the second day, focused on “broken,” one of my responsibilities was giving a talk on the healing power of confession.

In preparing my talk, I turned to one of my favorite saints, St. Francis De Sales, who for many reasons deserves devotion by lovers of St. Thomas, one of which is the fact that he so excellently exemplifies the integration of study and charity. 

He embodies the spirit of how one should approach reading the Summa or studying in general by approaching his studies with gentleness, civility, and prayerfulness.

If you are looking for a way to read St. Thomas without growing arrogant or suffering from aut-Thomism, look to St. Francis de Sales. 

In any case, here is what I shared on confession: 

One of the privileges of enjoying many great friendships is becoming friends with their families. Parents and siblings can become an extension of your original friendship. On one occasion, I had dinner with my friend’s father, Dave, a man I respect and admire. 

Dave was not only able to win two battles against cancer, but he also sponsors individuals who struggle with addiction.

During our conversation over dinner, the topic of relapse came up. Why do people fall back into their old ways? In the moral life, we go to confession yet we quickly fall back into our old behaviors, committing the same sins again and again. Why?

I thought I knew the answer. 

“Dave, is it because people are not sorry enough for what they’ve done?” 

Individuals fall back into their old ways because they don’t want to change badly enough.

If they truly wanted to change, they would take the steps to ensure it doesn’t happen again.

In the moral life, for example, aren’t we supposed to cultivate good and holy desires, the “flowers of the heart” as St. Francis De Sales calls them? If we were serious about holiness, then wouldn’t we prune away anything that stifles, impedes, or destroys God’s love in our lives? We want to purify our hearts.

If you really hate sin, then wouldn’t you hate even the means or occasions of sin?

Wouldn’t you do everything you could to avoid it?

In the case of alcoholics, it wouldn’t be enough to avoid the drink; one needs to avoid the bar and even the street where the bars are. 

If only I were more sorry, more contrite, more serious about changing, then I would not fall back into my old ways. 

But Dave responded: “That is all true and good and important, but there is a deeper, more fundamental truth.” 

In confession, the problem is not that we aren’t sorry enough; it is that we believe that God cannot work with our imperfect sorrow. God still uses our most imperfect, minimal sorrow. Our smallest contrition is still worthy of God. 

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I tried again. 

“Dave, is it because people forget about the consequences of their actions?”

We fall back into our old ways because we get tunnel vision. When that object of sin, that sinful relationship, that addictive thing is presented to us, don’t we, in that moment, easily forget about the consequences? 

We get tunnel vision don’t we? Don’t we only think about that pleasure, that payoff without thinking about anything else?

This is especially true with mortal sin.  The eternal consequences of mortal sin, as enumerated by St. Francis De Sales, are the loss of grace, the loss of heaven, the pains of hell, the rejection of God’s perfect love. 

When we choose to mortally sin, we choose hell, we choose to lose heaven, we choose to lose grace, and we choose to reject God’s love. 

If only I had presence of mind, brighter lights, stronger associations between my actions and their consequences, then I would not fall back into my old ways.

Yet Dave responded again: “That is all true and good and important, but there is a deeper, more fundamental truth still.”

Even when we don’t think about it, God is constantly saving us. God sees us when we don’t see Him. He is close to us when we are far from Him. God sends His saints, our guardian angels, intercessory prayers, an embarrassment of graces even when we are not thinking about them. We constantly live in tunnel vision yet nothing can overcome God’s love for us. He will save us even when we do everything we can to stop it, just as He did with St. Paul. 

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What is the answer? 

Dave said this: 

If we want to change, if we want to be more sorrowful, if we want to avoid falling back into our old ways, we must fully embrace the fact that we are completely and utterly powerless. We are powerless to do any of it.

Once we, with a sincere heart, fully embrace the fact that we are completely powerless to change ourselves, to fix ourselves, to save ourselves, to overcome that sin, to negotiate with evil. It is only then that we will we rely on God to fix it. It is only then that confession will do amazing things in our lives. 

It is only then that the shame of sin becomes our secret weapon. St. Francis says: “The scorpion who stings us is venomous, but when his oil has been distilled, it is the best remedy for his bite;—even so sin is shameful when we commit it, but when reduced to repentance and confession, it becomes salutary and honourable.” 

“Contrition and confession are in themselves so lovely and sweet-savoured, that they efface the ugliness and disperse the ill savour of sin.”

The greatest sins have the potential to solicit the greatest mercy from God (the graces given in confession come directly from the merits of Christ’s crucifixion) and the greatest gratitude in our hearts if we admit our utter brokenness, powerlessness and hand it all over to God. 

If you want to comfort your heart, refresh your spirit, follow through on good resolutions, implement wise advice, make better confessions in the future, receive the Eucharist with more devotion, and ultimately, become the person God wants you to be, then embrace your brokenness, embrace your powerlessness, and bring it all to confession.

And give thanks that you cannot do any of it yourself.