Regrets . . . if only . . .

In a recent survey (this morning) of one person (myself), researchers (me) determined that the most dangerous words in the English language are: “if only.”  These are closely followed by shoulda, woulda, and coulda.

If only I had known that the last two weeks were going to be such beautiful weather, I wouldn’t have prepped the motorcycle for winter.

If only I had known I was going to be sick with COVID, I could have prepped a couple of pulpit-supply speakers.

In the big scheme of things, these are insignificant “if only-s.”  But these two words can be the haunting echo of all kinds of regrets - and sometimes, biggies.  Regret seems to be an integral part of the human condition.  

King David was a murderer and adulterer.  Joseph, the hero of the great Egyptian famine, was a manipulative snitch. Did Stephen’s final words echo in the Apostle Paul’s head as he laid it on the pillow at night: “Lord, do not hold this sin against him?”  Did he see the faces of those early Christians whom he had led into martyrdom?  How did he feel when he worshipped with the church in Jerusalem alongside the widows and children of the men he helped put to death.  How often did he say to himself, “If only . . .”

What is the interplay between regret and faith?  

In spite of all his shenanigans, Scripture refers to David as a “man after God’s own heart.”  Joseph commented that his brothers’ attempt at revenge was redeemed by God for the good of the nation and those all around them.  Paul wrote frequently about the importance of mutual love and care for one another in the body of Christ.  How is this possible?

This is the point were it is all too easy to roll out the not-helpful clichés.  Instead, let’s consider three ideas that are real and concrete.  There isn’t space to expound these fully but hopefully these will plant some seeds for thought.

1.  A common denominator amongst those we would consider heroes - David, Joseph, Paul, and others - is their ability to extend and receive FORGIVENESS.  Yes, God forgives our sins . . . but are we able to forgive others?  Jesus said this was an essential component of understanding how God has forgiven us.  Are we able to also forgive ourselves?  Sometimes, this is the hardest thing!  David spoke of the joy of forgiveness (Psa. 32) and having our sins removed from us (Psa. 103).  If even our sin cannot separate us from the love of God, then how can our regrets?  And if God can forgive us, are we greater than God that we cannot forgive ourselves (I know, it is harder than it seems - I’m just asking that we think about that)?

2.  The Apostle Peter - another guy who had lots of reasons to carry regret - penned these words:  “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, [by] casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” (1Pet. 5:6-7 ESV)  Peter knew about learning to be humble.  He attempted, more than once, to advance God’s plans on his own timetable.  Eventually he came to understand that the core of humility is TRUST.  Trust says, “I don’t understand but I know You are a loving, compassionate and gracious God . . . so I will wait.  I will express this trust/humility by acknowledging that even my regrets cannot limit You.”  None of us, nor any life-choices we have made, can limit God from accomplishing His purposes and good work.

3.   Our relationship with God is one which saturates every detail of life.  There is no “secular” and “spiritual;” it is all lived in God’s presence and subject to His authority.  This is a great truth but it demands that we be intentional to embrace it, redefining and re-ordering our perspective on life based on the person and character of God.  Or, to use some Graham-ology, to be THINKFUL:

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Phil. 4:8 ESV)

Unresolved regret is not simply an anchor that ties us to the past.  It is a toxin that poisons our present and handicaps our future.  It inhibits our ability to see God’s grace at work.  Slowly but surely, it smothers and suffocates and snuffs out the hope, joy, and passion with which God desires we live.  Yet an antidote is available so the past doesn’t define the future:  the forgiveness of God, trust in His goodness, and re-framing all of life in the context of His grace.