Matte Mirror

A matte mirror—the gray drizzle mirrors the silent tears on your cheeks. Not a storm. Not a torment. Just the insipid, insidious gray haze, just the insidious gray daze. “Maybe if…”

Maybe if I had been better.

Maybe if I had prayed more.

Maybe if I had been more selfless and loved him/her better.

Maybe if I was a person of stronger character.
If only I hadn’t said that.

I should have done that instead of this.

Things would have been different. Things might have been different.

Regret.

The drizzle is neither sun nor rain; not completely this or that. So fine it can’t be seen, nor really felt, but it seeps. The dribble of regret is not rational, often not definable in clear connections. All kinds of things attach themselves to the “maybe if…” Maybe if…. I would not have been sick. I would have been healed.  I would still have my job. I’d still have or have a better relationship with him/her. He/she would not have wandered from the Lord. I wouldn’t be in such financial straits. Some may have truth, but often the connection is one of magic, and believing we have more power than we actually do. If I somehow forced up more moral character, would I somehow not be so sick? If I prayed harder, would I somehow have gotten better? If I had been more generous with my time, would God have given me the strength to do more opportunities?

Insidious. Subtle. But a constant damper. We try to ignore it. Push it out of our thoughts. But it creeps and seeps, sogging all.

Yet, look above the mist, above the low-laying clouds. Look to a God bigger than our regrets. Only he can free us from lingering anguish. Indeed, sometimes we may not even desire to be free. There are certain paybacks from regret—we like the sense of control that regret gives us; we like self-pity; we like feeling like martyrs or victims even of our own past; we like using our past as an excuse for not moving on in the present; focusing on the regret can distract us from our fears of the future; regret can be a form of penance in self-flagellation to try to somehow compensate. Moreover, Satan will try to keep us under the wet towel of condemnation. Only God, in his light and life, is big enough.

If there is truth to our regrets, real reason for it, Jesus our Sacrifice is greater. There is forgiveness. Newness. He is the Lord of second chances. You are forgiven; leave it. Fight the oppressive mist of condemnation, the feeling of lingering guilt. Rejoice in God our Savior! You are forgiven; the very source of regret is severed. The sun breaks in.

Secondly, our Sovereign God is greater. He can use our past mistakes, the reasons we have for real regret. It was from a fallen, rebellious Israel from which the Messiah came. It was from the life-taking murderer Moses that God shaped for forty years as a shepherd to be the life-giving deliverer of his people. It was from a chastened Peter that God used to so beautifully write the humble hope-filled epistles of 1 and 2 Peter. All is in the hands of our loving Sovereign Redeemer. Not even our own mistakes and sins can separate us from the love of God in Christ, but will be used for our good as well (Romans 8:28-37). In his hands, even our sin can be used for our good.

There are regrets that are not real, a vague sense of guilt. A haze that pretends to be rain. They can rise from our feeling for the need for control, our unwillingness to recognize our finitude, or our perfectionism. In short, really, from our desire to be like gods (even if we feel so helpless or like victims in our regret). “If only I…” expresses a way we feel we create reality, order the world, are the source of cause and effect. This is God’s role only. Just as mist only indicates the heavier rain-laden cloud, regret can indicate a usurpation of God. Recognize your finitude, your limits, inability to be perfect. It is okay to be human. False regret will dissolve in the freedom of grace to be merely human, in surrendering our role as gods. Can you feel the relief? The compassion of God meets our finitude.

Know our Sovereign God can restore. There is grace to match. For each of the three times Peter denied Christ, Christ reinstated him. Three times, “I do not know you;” three times, “Feed my sheep.” His sin was used, restored, redeemed. Rest. Expect. Look for his redemption. Allow it to be used—open your hand, release your clutch on shame and regret. Give the experience to God. There is grace to cover, the penetrating warmth of light of grace.

Regret clouds our view. We narrow our focus to our self, looking at distorted reflections of self in the puddles. But look up to the Lord, the Light of Glory, the Forgiver, the Sovereign, the Compassionate Father, the Grace-Giver. In his light we see light (Psalm 36:9). The more we focus on him, the less we will dwell on the drabness of regret. We will be far more enchanted with a greater glory.

"Maybe if" stills our steps. We can be afraid to go forward. Afraid we will fail again. It maintains our focus on the clouds that are already past, the non-reality of reflections in puddles. Grace allows us to live in the present—past forgiven, future taken care of in the hands of our Father. Let it go, let it go. Stop trying to hold on to rain-that-isn’t-rain, the what-isn’t impossibles.

Maybe if… maybe if…. Forgiven. Used for our good. Meets with compassion. Covered by grace. Where sin abounds, where condemnation clouds, grace abounds more in the Light.