Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 60 Page 61 Page 62 Page 63 Page 64 Page 65 Page 66 Page 67 Page 68 Page 69 Page 70 Page 71 Page 72 Page 73 Page 74 Page 75 Page 76 Page 77 Page 78 Page 79 Page 80 Page 81 Page 82 Page 83 Page 84Plough Quarterly • Summer   fear of gossip which can so quickly circulate, especially in tight-knit Christian groups. But all this can be an excuse, a copout for not really turning away from sin. Hiding behind our Christianity, we keep our sin secret, not because we feel forgiven but because we fear wounded pride. Self-righteousness and the desire to look good have become so entrenched in us that instead of being the sinners we are, we lock ourselves behind a spiritual façade of our own making–a prison that keeps us isolated from each other and from God. My wife and I founded our marriage on our urge to follow Christ above all else. We have fallen short of this many times, but just as often we have experienced that by confessing our failings openly to each other we find a deeper unity and love and are able to help each other. It has become blindingly obvious to me that keeping secrets from my wife–particularly about my temptations and sins–only damages our marriage. Isn’t the same true of all our relationships? If we long for peace, unity, and love in our fellowship with one another, then we must become vulnerable and reveal what we are hiding in the dark. When the apostle Paul urges us to carry each other’s burdens, he means this to lead us nearer to Jesus and, in the end, to one another. It is a gift, not a begrudging duty. The First Letter of John is as sharp as it is hopeful: “If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another.” What does it mean to walk in the light, to come clean? To truly give up what Christ wants to take away? Like the paralyzed man described in Matthew 9, we are all afflicted with some kind of sickness or infirmity. More importantly, most of us are weighed down by our sins and failures. This is why the apostle James urges us to call the elders of the church to pray, as well as to confess our sins to one another. Through confession, we can unlock the bars that keep us bound up inside. Then we find true and lasting healing. But for this to happen, we must be ready for Christ to change us. Perhaps this is why we resist confessing anything to anybody. For to admit our wrong- doings to another person would mean we are ready to change the way we are and live. Jesus promises to make everything new, but also says, “Go and sin no more” (John 8:11). Yes, God knows everything, and we can always come directly to him. His forgiveness is a wonderful gift. But its power to free and heal comes at a cost: we must allow ourselves to be made low so that Christ himself can truly lift us up to new life. When we confess our sins to one another, we go the lowly way of Jesus, who was born in a manger and died on a cross. We meet this Christ in our brother and sister. It is a mystery, but the humble way is the only way that leads to light and hope, freedom and joy. Then, as Jesus said, “the kingdom of God is in your midst” (Luke 17:21). * Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together: The Classic Explora- tion of Christian Community (HarperOne, 2009), 114. Johnny Fransham, together with his wife Anna Regula (Regi), served as bishop for the European communities of the Bruderhof from 2006–2016. On February 8 of this year, he died at age sixty-seven after a three-month battle with cancer. Read about his life at bruderhof.com/fransham. Photo courtesy of the author's family Photograph by Simply Viola