Every man will give one report that can't be edited. The man who has been reporting all along has nothing to dread.
Most men would rather not think about the judgment seat of Christ. Chapter 9 argues that thinking about it is one of the most freeing things a man can do, if he understands two things at once.
Two things that are both true
First: the believer is safe. "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" (Romans 8:1). The crushing weight of guilt was carried to the cross and left there. When a Christian stands before Christ, he is not on trial for his life. That verdict was settled when he trusted Christ.
Second: the account is real. "We must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil" (2 Corinthians 5:10). Paul includes himself in that we. Some work will last like gold. Some will burn like straw (1 Corinthians 3:12–15).
If you hold only the first truth, the account stops mattering. If you hold only the second, the account becomes terrifying. Together they describe something like a Monday night brotherhood with the lights all the way up: you are completely safe in the room, and what you say still matters.
Why weekly confession is rehearsal
The chapter makes a striking claim: every account you give now is practice for that one.
Think about what it takes to stand before someone who loves you and say what you did, in one sentence, with no second clause and no arranging. For most men, the first time is terrifying. The tenth time is still hard. By the hundredth time, something has changed. You know from experience that the other side of the sentence is mercy, not rejection.
The man who has given that kind of account every week for years will not be learning a new skill on the last day. The setting will be infinitely greater, but the act will be familiar.
The man who has hidden all his life will be doing it for the first time.
Installments
Jesus said, "Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known" (Luke 12:2). Everything will be said eventually. The only question is whether it is said now, in a living room, to brothers who love you, or for the first time on that day.
That is why Chapter 9 calls honest confession installments. Each true thing said now is part of the final account already given, already forgiven, already in the light. The man who reports every week isn't adding to what he will face. He is paying it down.
Not fear, but joy
This is not meant to frighten anyone into confession. Fear makes men hide; it's the oldest reason Adam gave ("I was afraid"). The point is the opposite.
Jude ends his letter by describing Christ as the one "able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy" (Jude 24). Great joy. That is how the final account ends for the man in Christ: not with a verdict he has to survive, but with a presentation he gets to enjoy.
If you have been walking in the light, you will recognize that room. You have been practicing for it every week.
Try this week
Ask yourself which installment is overdue: the thing you have never told anyone. Write it down in one sentence. Then decide who you will tell, and when, and put it on your calendar.
Talk it over
For a group, or for two men over coffee. These go alongside the reflection questions at the end of the chapter in the book.
- When you imagine giving account before Christ, what is your first feeling? What does that feeling tell you about how you have been living?
- How does Romans 8:1 change what the judgment seat means for a believer? Does it make the account matter less or more?
- Why might a man who has confessed regularly to his brothers face the final account differently than a man who has hidden all his life?
- If every confession now is an installment on the final account, what installment is overdue?