Dear John,

Some years ago our four-year-old son came to me with an odd expression on his face and said, “I didn’t do nuffing, Mommy.” His transparent attempt to appear innocent gave him away, and I asked, “Where didn’t you do nothing?”

Looking down, he admitted, “In the closet.”

We went there straightaway to discover what mischief he had gotten into. A quick glance revealed that he had taken all the bottles of vitamin pills and dumped them out into great heaps on the closet floor.

I enjoy sharing this story because in the innocence of a child’s mind, we see a reflection of our own efforts to hide our mistakes. Whether silly lapses or mortal sins, we hope that no one, especially not God, sees our errors. Yet in this attempt to cover things up, we carry within us the burden of guilt, shame, and self-blame.

I’m not suggesting that we broadcast our failings to the world, but there is another way to drop the millstone of guilt that hangs around our neck. Without fear of judgment or rejection, we can offer all our past wrong actions to God. In truth, He knows about them already. And He will probably be as amused as we were with our son.

In Paramhansa Yogananda: A Biography, Swami Kriyananda wrote: “I can vouch for his perfect knowledge of the thoughts and actions of his disciples. He once said to me, ‘I know every thought you think!’ And he proved that statement again and again. Once at Hollywood Church I told an insincere member that I would be giving next Wednesday’s class. ‘In that case,’ the member said, ‘I will be sure to come.’ Well, I knew he would have come anyway; therefore it irritated me slightly that he would pretend to be coming only because I would be giving the class. Wanting to deflect his insincere flattery from myself, I answered him (not very elegantly, I’m afraid), ‘In that case, would you please stand outside and check people’s pockets for vegetables as they come in?’

“A few days later I was with my guru while he entertained guests for lunch. After they’d left, as I sat at the table alone with him, he remarked to me casually, ‘By the way, when you are talking with a congregation member, don’t talk about vegetables! It isn’t dignified.’”