snakes and mirrors

raise your hand if you hold onto regret

I hold onto my regret

like a pet

snake, feeding it,

fearful if I don’t, I’ll get

eaten.

Raise your hand if this is you. I’d honestly be surprised if you said no. I think we all hold on to some form of regret.

But recently I’ve been trying to figure out where grace fits in here. My sins are wiped away, so why is there still regret lingering? Is it possible to ‘fail’ at grace?

I think about the boy who asked my twelve-year-old self to dance. I turned him down in my best, sassy, Lizzie McGuire tone. I was scared, but he didn’t know that. I have spent many days thinking, worrying, hoping. Thinking of my own sons. Pray this moment didn’t define him. Hoping he is happily married to a woman who lifts him up, and he doesn’t even remember his 14-year-old heartbreak.

I think about the friendship I let die. How I selfishly sought my own good, and how instead of showing up when it mattered most, I tried to take the diplomatic route, the 50% for you 50% for my career route, the million excuses why route.

I think about a supervisor from my young life. How I joined the “water cooler” talk. Instead of standing up for my boss’s dignity I let my own complaints join the cacaphony of discontent.

Regret.

I know I have no sins before the Lord. I know Jesus took them with him to the cross and I am blameless. So I should just be able to walk around in blissful ignorance of my past, right?

One of my sons recently made a poor choice. My husband and I sat down with him and our conversation resulted in his confession, our forgiveness proclaimed, and the consequence assigned. He lamented, “I said I was sorry! Why can’t I have my freedom back?” Well, we told him, he’d lost our trust. The consequence was in place to remind him of that privilege, and to make it that much sweeter when trust was restored.

My need for grace is beyond this life. If this earthly existence were all about just restoring relationships here - making life perfect here - then I would be an absolute disaster. Sometimes forgiveness and grace mean that relationships and struggles on earth can be completely repaired, but not always. Sometimes the consequence is beyond our ability to repair. A drunk driver who kills an innocent person can receive forgiveness from the family, but the lost life will never be restored on earth.

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12. The “then” Paul is referring to here is eternity. The fullness is coming later.

I can’t go back and make my mistakes untrue, but I can trust in the God who loves and cares for all of his children despite me. I will never know how that teenage boy ended up, but I can trust that my disgusting attitude was not the end of his story. I will never experience that friendship restored, but I trust God will put other women in her life to be what I couldn’t. I can’t go back and undo the gossip I perpetuated, but I can trust that God still worked through my former supervisor.

Yes, I have regret. The poem that opened this essay is not a healthy way of dealing with the consequences, but neither is living just for feeling good on earth. Both miss the point of grace. Grace means that, despite me, God is still bringing his kingdom come. Despite me, I will still be in his kingdom for eternity. And that hope is worth feeding and holding onto.

[Jesus said] I have told you these things so that in Me you may have peace. You will have suffering in this world. Be courageous! I have conquered the world. John 16:33

Photo by Luis Villasmil on Unsplash