It was a Saturday morning, and frankly, I didn’t want to get up.

But my daughter’s dance class was calling and I needed to get her dressed, ready, and out the door. As we were wrapping up breakfast…a delightful, cinnamon-sugared croissant…my 7-year-old informs me that it was “too much sugar” and now she has a stomachache.

Strike one.

She sneaks away to another room, and when I peak my head in to tell her it’s time to get ready, she reiterates again that she is not feeling well and does not want to go to class. Also, her foot hurts.

Strike two.

To be fair, she had been dealing with a cold all week, but had mostly recovered at this point, so I wasn’t totally buying the “I’m sick.” As for her foot, she was really just complaining about an exercise they do in class to help stretch their feet and build strength. It wasn’t an injury; it’s a training technique…albeit a mildly uncomfortable one. We headed to her room for round three of negotiations where I fully intended to convince her to go. 

“Why don’t you want to go to class?” I asked her.

“I don’t feel good…it hurts my foot…and…I have a loose tooth,” she replied.

Strike three, four, and one very “weak” five. She was clearly running out of excuses.

I launched what I thought was a persuasive counter. “You’ll have off next weekend because it’s a holiday. This is your last class for this month. It’s only 45 minutes, then you’ll be done and have the rest of the day to yourself. Your best friend will also be there.”

She was stone-faced, so I kept chipping away.

“We pay for you to go to this class…and I didn’t feel like getting up today, but I…”

As my voice trailed off, she muttered a quiet, “Ok.” Not an enthusiastic or inspired “Ok,” but rather a defeated…disheartened…you won…I surrender “Ok.” 

In that moment, all I could hear in my head was the guilt-laced “I” statements that I had just lobbed at her.  A familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Sarah, you’re making this about you. It’s not about you. It’s about your daughter and what she needs. And she needs grace, not guilt.”

Strike six. 

I looked into her eyes—now welling with tears—pulled her into my arms, and kissed her cheek. “It’s ok,” I said. “We don’t have to go today. It’s ok.” I sensed a palpable wave of relief as her body caved into mine. 

The truth of what happened that day is that I took a perfectly good noun—guilt—and turned it into a condemning verb—guilting.

According to the dictionary, guilt (the noun) is the fact of having committed a specified offense. Guilt (the verb) is making someone feel guilty, especially in order to induce them to do something.

I was full-on guilting the moment my argument became about me. And the thing about guilting is that while it may get you your desired “results,” it breaks spirits.

Sure, we may have gotten ourselves to the dance studio, but it would have been at the expense of our relationship. Thankfully God interrupted my plans that day and showed me a better way.

The way of grace.

Unlike guilt, grace isn’t agenda-driven. It’s people-driven. It offers understanding, acceptance, and mercy. Grace isn’t motivated by the rule of law and reason, but rather relationships.

Where guilt breaks, grace builds. Where guilt hurts, grace heals. Where guilt condemns, grace comforts.

You see…when we choose unconditional love over coercion, manipulation, and guilting…we’re choosing a better way. We’re choosing to speak life and honor each other in a way that guilting can and never will be able to achieve.

We’re choosing to let go, let God…and live to dance another day.