Calm in the Chaosنموونە

Practice of Confession

Funny, dramatic, quirky—Evan Koons is one of a kind. As an actor, writer, and producer, Evan has worked on a wide variety of projects, each one unique and fascinating. But you might know him best for his five-minute viral comedy video, “Church Appropriate Dance Moves.” You can join in the dances or simply laugh the entire time—either way, you’ll get a good workout by watching it!

No matter what project he’s working on, Evan gives his all. Whether he’s guest-starring in NBC’s Chicago Fire or co-producing and acting in the Christian comedy Camp Manna, Evan works for the Lord.

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Oh, for the love of Pete, I have no idea! I'm a recent convert (three years, I think) to Eastern Orthodoxy (EO). We have all kinds of practices: daily prayers, weekly fasting, and almsgiving. They're all part of my life—and I struggle with each of them. I also struggle to talk about them. I'm still the same sinner I always was. Let's face it, as an Enneagram 7w6, if it's not a party, if it’s not fun and exciting, or if it doesn’t feel good, I don't really want to do it.

I'll refrain from using the word "best" when it comes to spiritual practices, but right now I'm finding Orthodox confession to be such a gift in my life. Even though it terrifies me.

Let me couch this with a side note, though: Please don't take this to mean you should go find someone and confess your sins to them. That'd be unwise. I'm speaking specifically about me here. And I have to say this for the same reason lawnmower companies have to put pictures warning us not to put our hands into the running mower blades—because inevitably, someone will do it.

As I was saying, confession is a gift. It's done during the service in the Nave (the sanctuary), out in the open, in full sight of everyone. This terrifies me. I fear I could be judged. Heard. Judged some more. Scorned. Thrown right out on my ear! (This has not happened yet.)

Still, despite the fear, I step to my priest. He stands over a lit candle. We begin to pray. Sometimes I list the litany of my sins, written on paper so I don't get distracted. (When confession is over, I burn that list in the fire pit outside the church.) Sometimes my priest simply says, "My son, what troubles you?" Without fail, my sin is always met with his mercy, love, and compassion. Never judgment.

This is new to me. This is deeply healing. This is life-creating.

My Savior is a good doctor more than he is a judge. I tell him what ails me. I tell him how sick with sin I've become. Together, we figure out a path forward. He gives me medicine. And I return for constant check-ups.

Confession heals me. It keeps me humble and honest (I truly am the chief of sinners). Confession destroys my ego. It makes more room in me to show love, mercy, and patience. It guides my life to repentance and healing.

What's more, something important happens for me when I confess my sins out loud and then hear out loud that I am forgiven. It's not an idea or a learned belief in my head, it's a truth declared in reality.

—Evan Koons, producer, writer, and actor, as told to Rapt Interviews