No Regrets?
It has been my experience that everyone has something in their past they wish they could redo. Usually, there is a wrong they want to right. While sometimes that includes a wrong done to them, most people I know want to undo a wrong that they have done to someone else. Sure, there are some who say they live with no regrets. I simply do not believe them. Mistakes are too common in this fickle life, and they too often create significant, unintended damage to have no regrets. Yet, there is nothing that can be done to travel back in time and right those wrongs we have regrettably committed. This forces the question: what can we do about past regrets now?
The truth is there are at least two things we can do about our past wrongs. First, we can apologize for them. While it can be awkward to dredge up long-neglected problems and face them head on, it usually is the right thing to do.
Second, we can cling to the changed life that has come to mark us over the years. Recently, I had two separate conversations with old classmates of mine. I have known each of them since our earliest days as children. It is always nice to have life-long familiarity with a person. However, with that familiarity also comes a realization that these people know my mistakes. They knew the old me.
These two conversations centered on the same thought – change. We each admitted to one another that “we are not who we used to be.” I think, in some way, this functions as an understood apology. It may also serve as an understood plea – “don’t think of me like you knew me back then.” But I think there is something more significant in reminding ourselves that we are not who we once were. I think it serves as a sort of consolation. We may not be able to undo our wrongs committed against others, but there is comfort in knowing that we have grown out of such foolishness – even if only a little.
What’s more, my two classmates and I are doing something else when we confess that we are not who we used to be. We are not only admitting our wrongs in the past, but testifying to God’s grace in the present. All three of us are Christians. We are now walking with God. We professed faith in Christ in school, but as adults we’ve come to take our faith seriously; which means serious growth and maturity.
We are not claiming perfection. But we are claiming to be different. Furthermore, there is now a new shared comradery in our confessed difference. There is a mutual understanding that we will not define one another by our foolish past. Rather, we will enjoy the present “us” as defined and changed by Christ. In our mutual understanding of the gospel, and our mutual experience of Christ’s patient sanctification, we can now lock arms in this pilgrimage called Christianity.
I have found that there is something uniquely liberating in telling someone that I am not who I once was. For the Christian, it almost feels like a reset button. A do-over. It also tends to strengthen relationships between those who share the same sentiment. I’m thankful for my two classmates. I’m thankful that they confess to being changed. That means they know exactly what I mean when I make the same confession!
I only wish now to make that confession to the countless others I have wronged – intentionally or unintentionally – over the years. I may not be able to go back and right those wrongs, but I can say with confidence that I am not who I was. Christ has changed me. Christ is maturing me. Christ is shaping and molding me. The gospel has taken root.
There is no selfish boasting for my changed life. All credit must be given to Christ. In so doing, may He comfort those whom I’ve wronged and bind me tightly to those whom I may reconcile with. I think a Christian that regularly and quickly confesses to those past regrets, and the subsequent personal change, are holding up the beautiful gospel adorned in truth and experience.
