Chaplain has 3-alarm guilt fire

"I'm going to have to get some bike shoes to ride my new electric bike," I told my wife Becky. Knowing my propensity to buy shoes for all occasions, Becky asked me to consider using a pair of my running shoes. "Since we moved to the foothills, I know those shoes haven't seen much mileage." I recognized her M.O. She was trying to make me feel guilty for spending good money on shoes I probably didn't need. It wasn't going to work this time, I thought, as I headed downtown to the biking store. Gladly, I was pleasantly greeted by a very nice clerk who quickly straddled one of those funny shoe stools with a little loading ramp. With my foot placed firmly onto the ramp, she began to fit me with a half-dozen pairs of shoes. I felt like the princess looking for her CinderFella to fit a glass Nike. The problem was that her attention was focused over my shoulder where her colleagues were busy collecting lunch orders to the local sandwich shop. From her perch on the wooden shoe horse, she misspoke her first diagnostic question: "What do you usually eat?" she asked. I heard the unintentional question directed toward me and it set off my guilt alarms. I wondered if her shoe ramp contained some kind of gizmo capable of measuring the fat in the soles of my feet. At any moment, I expected a latex-gloved co-worker to pinch the doughnut sack from my bag and declare, "We got him now. This is all we'll need. Book him on charges of 'stuff and run.' " Without knowing anything about my eating habits, the clerk didn't mean to imply judgment, but it was too late. Flaming guilt had already engulfed my face, and by the looks of things, it was going to be a three-alarm response. But this kind of guilt – the kind of guilt that only fears exposure – is almost as unhealthy as are my eating habits. Unhealthy guilt will invest an incredible amount of energy into concealing things. As we make the effort to hide our guilt, shirk it or ignore it, serious mental health concerns can result. The energy we expend to blanket a problem often shapes a silhouette plain enough for all to see. The impression left from hiding guilt is often as plain as the angel pattern left by children playing in snow. As I worked to suck in my gut, my unhealthy guilt had me assuming this hapless shoe clerk was my accuser. The situation reminded me of the conversation Jesus had with a woman whose murder he interrupted. Jesus faced her accusers as they readied stones to execute her for adultery. He sent the executors packing with a single qualification: "He who is without sin may cast the first stone." With the sudden disappearance of her accusers, Jesus assured her, "No man condemns you and neither do I." People like that part of the story but often forget Jesus then turned the tables a bit by introducing her to healthy guilt. With a dismissive mandate, Jesus added, "Go and sin no more!" In life, healthy guilt can inspire us to strive for healthier lives. It can push us to mend relationships, work hard and commit to charity. But good results only come as we commit to taking our life forward and "sinning no more." When the clerk rang up the sale, the damage was almost $150, and I had only one thought: "I shouldn't be spending this kind of money on shoes. I'm going to have to bike 100 miles a week to justify this purchase." The guilt was back. Not to make you feel guilty, but if you're looking for an easy way to help Chispa Project, shop our Amazon Wishlist for the back-to-school season at www.go.chispaproject.org/supplies. Email Norris Burkes with questions at comment@thechaplain.net.