how to move past a regret

I broke my own heart last week because of something I didn’t do. And though everything in me just wants to forget about it, I’ve come to understand that allowing you to see the real, depraved, selfish me will inspire you more than any fake “I always make Jesus-honoring decisions” me.

 

 

My husband and I were in line at our favorite local tex-mex restaurant the other night. I was minding my own business ordering a naked Cali burrito when a homeless guy walked in.

OK wait. Let me rewind and make sure you understand something about me.

I’ve got this really tender place in my spirit for the homeless. I’m not sure why. But I’m that person who makes homeless care packages with my kids to keep in the car. And I always want to give them money… blah blah blah. And people tell me I’m foolish because they could spend it on… blah blah blah. So anyway, I’m that person.

So I was ordering my Cali burrito and this homeless guy comes in and approaches the two pretty, college girls in line behind us.

OK wait. Let me rewind and tell you what happened in my spirit when I saw the two college girls.

They came into the restaurant after us — young and firm and blond and carefree. And I had this momentary, subconscious jealousy creep up in me. It’s not that I want to be in college again — oh Lord Jesus, no thank you. I don’t even want long, blond hair. But I definitely had some twisted comparison thing going on in my spirit, which always and forever leads to poor choices.

So I’m ordering my burrito, having subconscious jealous feelings over childish comparisons, thinking I won’t get cheese or sour cream because, you know, I’ll now try to eat healthier, and that’s when the guy comes in. And he approaches the college girls to ask them for money. They say “no” with semi-disgust and definite fear.

Then he walks past my husband and me, and approaches a lady in front of us in line. She says “no” with blatant disgust and a glimmer of get-the-&*ll-away-from-me. Then he goes table to table asking people for money. Someone in line tells the lady behind the counter the situation and she sends over a muscle-ish guy to escort him out.

And do you know what I did while all this was going on? A big fat nothing. I stood there conflicted, but in total silence the whole time. Well, silent until the college girl says to me with that stereotypical sorority accent, “Can you believe he came in here to ask for money?!” And I said as only Jesus would say, “I know. Maybe in the Wal-mart parking lot but here?” Yep. I said that. And I’ve wanted to delete it from this post approximately 82 times. But I’m by nature sinful and swayed by culture and without skipping a beat that ridiculous comment came out of my mouth with all the judgement that the world would expect. What the heck just happened?!

We sat down to eat and I felt sick. Literally. “What in the world did I just do?!” I said. “I should’ve done something. Jesus would have done something.” “What do you think Jesus would have done?” my husband asked. “I don’t know. But I know He would have given the guy more than a freakin’ cold shoulder.”

When we left, my husband and I drove around the area looking for the guy. But we never saw him. The opportunity was lost. And I felt disgusted with myself.

The next day I processed the situation, asking God what I could have done differently. I envisioned living the moment all over again but this time going over to the guy and saying something like, “James! Hey man, are you hungry? Let me get you a quesadilla.”

I got before God and cried an ugly cry, confessing that I was just like Peter when he denied Jesus. I was a little hormonal that day which leads me to be slightly more dramatic. Don’t judge. I told Him that I was so sorry for missing the opportunity. I asked Him to give me more chances to love those who are cast aside by the world. I confessed how self-focused and fearful I can be. And I asked Him to forgive me.

And do you know what He did? He spoke to my soul as plain as day, “Receive my grace, Lara. Receive.” And it was like a healing oil that washed all over me. I took a deep breath and whispered out-loud, “I receive it, Lord. I receive.” And just like that, the shame lifted.

 

Therefore, as one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men. For as by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous.
Romans 5:18-19

 

Jesus died to take away the condemnation. Yes, I “should” have done something different. I should have. I sensed God’s leading but I drowned Him out with people-pleasing fear. But — but! — Jesus died to take my shame. He died to take it!

I will keep on submitting to selfish fears and desires at times. I will. In my marriage, in my parenting, in my friendships, in my interactions with homeless people. Until I stand before my Lord, I will keep on battling self. But God doesn’t point His finger and say, “Shame on you.” He stands there and says, “Receive my grace. Your condemnation was placed upon my Son. Your condemnation has been traded for His righteousness.” It’s completely scandalous. And receiving His grace, over and over, day after day, moment by moment, empowers and inspires me to serve Him with an even fiercer devotion.

I don’t know if I’ll get another opportunity exactly like that one. But I pray that God would grace me with more and more of His vision. Vision into my own heart, so I can confess wrong thinking right when it begins — like comparison. And vision into this broken world full of broken people.

What do we do with regret? We humbly confess it for what it is — burden for our sin — and then we receive His grace. Receive.

 
Fill me, Lord…

How do you move past regret?