To many Roman Catholics, especially the older generations, it’s inconceivable that online blathering could stand in for confession. “It would be like cheating!” said one woman at St Mark, in the Denver suburb of Highlands Ranch. But for Ashley Iodice, a high-school senior in Weston, Florida, Internet absolution feels more natural than talking to a priest.

Now a Baptist, Iodice grew up Catholic; she remembers confession as scary—and less than sincere. It’s hard be honest about the depths of teenage depravity, she said, when you’re talking to an elderly priest who’s committed his whole life to poverty and chastity.

But at IveScrewedUp, Iodice’s inhibitions melted and she found herself admitting to the world how she’d fallen these past few years: “Drinking,” she said. “And, you know stupid teenage stuff.”

When she was done, Iodice said, her conscience felt newly light. “It sounds odd, but to me, it was much more personal than confessing to a priest,” she said. “The anonymity means you can tell everything. It’s a very cool way to do it.”

What does it accomplish?

Pastor Troy Gramling, of Flamingo Road Church in Florida, sees online confession as a step toward personal healing. “It’s good for the soul,” he said.

Outside the Catholic church too, the rite of confession is being reshaped, this time by Protestant mega-church pastors who see the ritual as a self-help tool for the lost and lonely .

Click over to IveScrewedUp.com , and a black-and-white, Goth-tattoo-style graphic bursts onto the screen. You’re invited to type in a description of your sins, along with your age and hometown. Click “send” and it’s done; you’ve confessed — to the webmaster of Flamingo Road Church , a Florida congregation affiliated with the Southern Baptist Convention.