Evangelical Confession

I know I struggle with I'm-not-that-bad-itis. This arrogance is perhaps the biggest roadblock to fruitful prayer without ceasing. Since I naturally assume my offenses are few and small, I am slow to make any legitimate confession of sin.
Yet confession is the only way to practice the Gospel truth that we are both miserable sinners and adopted children of God; without hating our sin, we aren't repenting of it.
The Westminster Shorter Catechism puts it thus: "Repentance unto life is a saving grace whereby a sinner, out of a true sense of his sin, doth with grief and hatred of his sin, turn from it unto God, with full purpose of and endeavor after new obedience."
(Note the Westminster Puritans emotional emphasis.)

Well, this poem is about what confession looks like for people who don't have that "true sense" of their sin. People like me.
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The Modern Evangelical at Confession, an Autobiographical Account

O Son of David, Son of Man,
Won't you have compassion?
You healed Old Bart, now here I am
In the latest fashion.
I am a finer man, no doubt,
So Son of David, help me out.

I bought this fresh deodorant,
Made my presence pleasant.
I won't shout so belligerent
Like that filthy peasant.
Yet I confess I'm lacking still.
This last bit, pray, your Spirit fill.

I think I passed ten minutes so,
"Lord," I must be going.
I purchased my indulgence, though
I'm not overflowing.
But I know that I'm safe from Hell
So, Son of David, fare thee well.

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