Glutton for guilt

Someone asked me recently what I thought the connection was between food and guilt. Wise question. My response: "are they different?"

My compulsion has always been food. The question was prompted because I had recently been to a social gathering where I didn't follow the food plan I had made for myself. It was a wonderful event, and as I looked back on it, I didn't feel guilty at all. I thought I should have. In my life guilt and food are usually intextricably linked.

I was propelled to consider the question: just what is guilt anyway? I spend a lot of my time trying to avoid it...or at least avoid the risk of incurring it. But, with my food--here I am looking for it when it's not there!

I decided that guilt is a kind of indicator of conscience--a little red flag waving to indicate that somehow I've missed the mark. I'm use to missing the mark with my food, so I was looking for it. It turns out: I actually was doing what I wanted to do. Wow. Go figure.

Guilt tells us that we haven't quite gotten to the truth yet. We've gotten a bit off the path, or maybe we've gone really astray. But, either way, hopefully, it can be a growth lesson. So, I concocted a little acronym. Guilt is: Growing Until I Learn Truth.

I like the concept of growing...learning something new...pursuing the truth in any given situation. I don't need to be afraid of a little guilt. I can learn from it. It helps to give some courage to take risks, to try things out, make mistakes, learn from it, and try and new path. I don't have to be a glutton for it...but a little can be useful.

Looking for the Oasis

In the desert, we can see where the water collects by looking for the trees. There may be a subterranean spring, but usually it's more likely that the rain water collects there on those rare rainy occasions. But, nevertheless, there's something there, some hidden or rare moisture enough to feed the foliage, to make it put down roots and grow, to offer shelter and sustenance to the other desert dwelling creatures.

A community of faith may be like that. There are obvious ones--housed in buildings that have a certain look to them. Or there are others that are harder to spot because they don't "look" like a church, you have to be guided by signs. They may be borrowing a space that blends in with the landscape...a storefront, a school. You might happen to visit one that looks like a church, but once you get inside...you wonder. Is there "water" here...really? Or, conversely, you may suddenly find yourselves in a circle of friends or acquaintances gathering at any random place, and suddenly you are overpowered with a sense of something sacred, something spiritual occurring, living water that you didn't expect.

My suspicion is that most of us are not looking so much for a "church," or a "church" experience...as we are looking for an oasis. As we sojourn through our lives, we are looking for a space that can offer some shade to rest, but also some source of living water, some spring, some cool collection of moisture that can quench our deep thirst for something that matters. We know it when we find it...but we also know, despite appearances, when we don't find it - when what we find rather is dry lifelessness.

We can keep looking for the oases in our lives. We need them. We need to find rest and acceptance. We need to feel refreshed and reconnected to what really matters in life. We need an oasis in our desert sojourns.