The Power of Guilt

I was speaking with a friend last week about a fairly significant event in my life. One in which for the first time, I had come across a seemingly, genuinely bad person. Of course I knew that there were people who are awful, murderers, rapists, etc., I know that, but this was the first time in my life that I knew someone who was only kind to serve a later purpose, who would hurt anyone to further an agenda, someone who was the exact opposite of anybody I had ever met. This person was awful to everyone I loved, they were hurtful and spiteful and mean, but much of their wrath was focused on a friend of ours. He got it the worst. I didn’t see how bad it was for him for a while, and it took me far too long to take a hard stand. Years later, I still can’t quite let myself off the hook for letting that friend down. 

I know all of the clichés that we tell each other and ourselves in situations like this: you don’t know what you don’t know, let it go; you didn’t know, when you knew better, you did better… all of those are true of course, but ultimately, unsuccessful. It’s been years and I’m not angry with myself or even with that person anymore. Yet that twinge of guilt remains.  

The truth is, though, I’m grateful for it. I used to be fairly non-confrontational; I wanted to keep the peace at all costs. Now? Not so much. I’ll take a stand much quicker when I see someone being hurt or there is the potential to be hurt. I no longer care as much if people like me, if they’re mad at me, if they think I’m too much or if they say awful things about me.   Honestly some of it may be true. 

A few years ago at a high school soccer game there were two men from the other team who were tossing xenophobic slurs to one of our player’s families.  To my surprise, I told my youngest daughter to stay with our team spectators and I started moving across the bleachers (they were sitting a few bleachers apart). I heard my daughter’s best friend’s mom say, “Tracy no. Tracy…”but it sounded like she was under water; I didn’t know why she didn’t want me to go over and I mostly didn’t care. By the time I got to them I knew my only goal was to literally put my body in between my friends and the hate being hurled at them. I had no intentions of saying anything — I would just be a barrier and provide support. But these two men wouldn’t stop, they just would not. So I did say something, I didn’t plan it but I did. I’m not sorry. I simply couldn’t stay quiet when I saw the tears in the eyes of a woman I respected so much. My going over to “stand with them,” mattered to her and honestly, it mattered to me. 

Becky, both a friend and mentor said to me “that was God moving you,” and she may be right, because it didn’t feel like me while I was walking over to them. I initially had no idea why I was headed over.   Four years before I would have listened, I’d have stayed. I would have sat in my seat, sick to my stomach and hating the fact that I didn’t have the guts to have the backs of people who needed support. I didn’t save them, they didn’t need saving, but they definitely didn’t need to face it alone. And that was what I was “called” to do that day and I trusted that call.

I’m not grateful for the pain of people I love, and yet I am grateful for the lessons– even when it comes in the form of guilt. Guilt is powerful. We typically feel guilt our whole lives, some we earn, some we don’t. Harnessing that guilt to foster the best parts of us is tricky, but ultimately worth it. Today I feel great desire to be peaceful but I rarely feel the need to keep the peace. After all, “keeping the peace” very often is to sacrifice one person’s feelings for another’s. Something I’m no longer willing to do.