(Guest blogger: Todd Hertz.  Todd is the E-Marketing Manager for ReFrame Media.  That basically means he works to build online relationships plus develop web and social media strategies.  He formally worked as the editor for multiple projects at Christianity Today.)

2009 has been a big year for celebrity confessions and apologies. The most notable cases:  Alex Rodriquez admitted and apologized for steroid use and David Letterman confessed to taking sexual advantage of his show’s staff.

The latest celebrity to publicly confess transgressions is tennis star Andre Agassi who shockingly reveals in his new book that he took crystal meth in 1997 and lied about it when caught in a drug test. In fact, when caught, Agassi wrote a totally fraudulent letter to tennis authorities claiming that he tested positive because of accidentally drinking a “spiked soda.” Based on his explanation, they dropped the issue.

What makes Agassi’s confession stand out from that of Letterman and Rodriquez is that he could have gotten away with it. Leaked test results from 1993 forced Rodriquez to address his steroid use. Lettermans’ confession came as his response to a blackmailer’s threat to reveal his secrets. But in Agassi’s case, no one was suspicious. No one would have known. He chose to reveal it—unprompted and seemingly out of the blue.

Why? In a publicity video for his book, Agassi says, “[In the book,] I was brutally honest about myself. I detail my misguided rebellions, distractions and bad decisions—which in a few instances nearly ended in catastrophe ... I felt that my story was one from which many people could learn. This book is a recollection, a work of memory, a comeback story. But it is also an atonement."

Would we be naïve to assume that perhaps Agassi is telling the truth: that maybe he personally needed this confession as atonement? To exorcise demons? To clear his conscience and find peace? As Christians, we know how sin, deception and guilt will eat away at a person. We know the freedom that comes with confession, forgiveness and honesty. And we know that all sin must be confessed to God and others (see, for instance, Psalm 66:18, James 5:16, and 1 John 1:9.) Thus, I clearly see the personal benefits—besides the desire to use personal mistakes to help others—of Agassi’s admission. I can see where this could indeed be atonement for him.

However, it’s also easy to be skeptical. Take the quotes of fellow tennis player Boris Becker: “Why would he want to be so brutally honest? I’m sure this will help to sell his book. He doesn’t need the money, though. He’s a rich man.”

Becker is not alone in questioning Agassi’s motives. Can you blame the skepticism? Have we become so jaded by empty apologies and desperate grabs for fame that we assume anyone’s confession must have an agenda? Or is it healthy to question whether Agassi’s actions come from a pure place? Does a pure confession need to come in a way that would have no monetary benefit? Or does it even matter why he revealed his sins as long as he did?