There are many forms of loss. Some happen abruptly – a sudden death, an acute illness. Other loss is more gradual – the progressive disability of a chronic disease, the deepening alienation of a loveless marriage. Some losses have no blame associated with them – they just happen – but sometimes we carry the pain of knowing that we are responsible for a loss.
We describe this as regret and it can be one of the bitterest experiences. Hebrews recalls the agonies of Esau, ‘who for a single meal sold his inheritance rights’, but later ‘even though he sought the blessing with tears, he could not change what he had done’ (Heb.12:16-17).
Regret is familiar to all of us. Hurtful words spoken in the heat of the moment; rash deeds or reckless decisions in the absence of proper reflection. Life, sadly, is full of such moments and we live with the consequences. Much of the time, like Esau, our tears of regret are powerless to change what we have done.
Acts 27 describes the unfolding of a disaster. A literal shipwreck. The centurion taking the apostle Paul to Rome ignores Paul’s warning of impending disaster. The ship and its crew are plunged into a perilous storm. ‘When neither sun nor stars had appeared for many days and the storm continued raging, we finally gave up all hope of being saved’ (Acts 27:20). As their strength faded and despair deepened, how many sailors were thinking: ‘If only we had listened to Paul’.
But regrets came too late – as it so often does. A point comes when the clock cannot be turned back. Words cannot be unsaid. Deeds cannot be undone. Many decisions resist simple reversal. The die is cast – the course of action set – and all we are left with is our regret.
Someone who can intervene
At least, it would be if the universe were simply closed. If we lived in a sealed system where cause and effect was all there is. But it’s not. There is someone beyond our universe who can intervene. That’s what the sailors on the boat learned from Paul. ‘You should have taken my advice not to sail’, Paul tells them. ‘But now I urge you to keep up your courage because not one of you will be lost (Acts 27:21-22). Paul tells them how an angel of the Lord had stood beside him and assured him that he would stand before Caesar in Rome and that God had graciously given the lives of all who sail with him’ (v.23-24). There is a God outside our universe of cause and effect – a God who is accomplishing His purposes. And this God can speak into our regrets.
Many bitter tears are described in the Bible, but few feel as poignant as the ones shed by Peter after his denial. Matthew describes it this way. ‘Immediately a cock crowed. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: “Before the cock crows, you will disown me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly’ (Matt. 26:74-75). Luke adds that it was when ‘the Lord turned and looked straight at Peter’ that Peter remembered Jesus’ words and realised what he had done (Luke 22:61). Despite all his bold assertions, Peter’s loyalty comes to nothing. Instead of standing with his master, he vows that he has nothing to do with Him.
But gloriously – graciously – Peter’s tears are not the end of the story. The very event Peter is witnessing guarantees a different outcome. Christ’s death is God’s great intervention – the ultimate undoing of regret. Every denial of Christ – and with it all the terrible regret we would face on the last day – is overcome by the cross.
Peter experiences this grace first hand. On a lakeside in Galilee, Peter’s relationship with Christ is restored. With his threefold question, ‘Do you love me?’, Jesus reinstates His disciple and calls him afresh to follow. Our actions do have consequences and our regret, at times, will be bitter. But in Christ restoration is always possible and it is always personal. The grace of Christ can break into our every regret and always brings the possibility of renewal.
