Joy in confessing?

Driving home late last night, I phoned two friends. The first my boyfriend, Eric, the second, my best friend Becky. I was calling to confess - I was in the wrong place, with the wrong people and I had violated trust and liberty given to me.

Before calling, I was wrestling with my options before God.

• Option #1: Confess to God, don't tell anyone else of my goof-up.
  
• Option #2: Confess to God, tell best-friend.
  
• Option #3: Confess to God, boyfriend and best friend.
  

I chose Option #3. In that decision making process, I didn't have a hard time telling God what I'd done wrong. It didn't cause me any particular grievance or pain because, hey, the bible tells me God forgives. It was the other two I was worried about - maybe they wouldn't forgive.

It's hard to tell people you messed up. It's difficult to get down on your knees and tell them the truth, the cold, sometimes painful truth. It's even more scary holding out for the other person's response. But yet, there's joy in it. Instead of hiding behind sarcasm and lies, you step out into the light. At first it's cold, lonely and all-to revealing being in the light. But eventually it warms you.

And that's where I am this morning - anticipating the warmth of truth all the while not trying to listen to the "You're not worthy" comments flooding my brain. Any offers of hope or related stories?