I started writing my first book over ten years ago. It was about the burdens we carry unnecessarily and the impact of those burdens on our souls. One destructive, self-imposed burden I addressed was the need for others’ approval. This sinful attitude traps us in a draining and dizzying roller coaster ride of euphoria when we are praised, and despair when we are criticized. I also wrote about perfectionism, which embraces a false view of ourselves, prevents us from rejoicing in what is good, and beats us down through a barrage of self-criticism for all that is not good enough. And I wrote about a dozen other burdens that followers of Jesus need not carry because our acceptance, our belonging, our value, and our eternal security are found in him.

Utilizing knowledge and wisdom I had gained through my seminary education, through my experiences as a pastoral and missionary counselor, and through failures and growth in my own personal life, I wrote about the weight of carrying such burdens and about the path to freedom and joy. But my progress came to a screeching halt when I got to the chapter on regret.

As I thought about what to write I became distressed, sorrowful, angry, and even despondent over some of my own decisions. As I sobbed inconsolably, I noticed that every caustic thought began with, “If only….” That’s when I realized I was still carrying the burden of regret and I didn’t know how to let go. It wasn’t that I still needed God’s forgiveness or that I had any doubts about my standing with him; I knew I was forgiven. It was the lifelong consequences that I experience to this day which embittered my soul and squelched my joy.

The “if onlys” are a heavy burden to carry. They represent shattered dreams that will never be recovered in this life. They invoke feelings of discontentment, grief, and doubt. They cause us to sob with regret for what could have been, to pray for second chances that we know will not be granted.

So what do we do with the regrets that we must live with for the rest of our lives? Lately, as I’ve reflected on conversations I’ve had with many women who have made regretful decisions over the years and on the direction of our culture, I’ve noticed two very distinct paths:

1. Attempt to assuage our own guilt and regret by convincing others to make the same foolish, and even sinful, decisions we made.

                                                                        OR

2. Humble ourselves, grieve our losses, and commit to teaching the younger generations to choose a better way.

The first path is the wide and well-traveled one. Tragically and despicably, most people today seek to justify themselves and ease their consciences by getting others on board with their own ignorance, foolishness, and sinfulness.

For example, women who made the tragic mistake of aborting their baby during their youth are actively telling younger women that killing their babies is not evil, but good, and that it brings freedom, success, and happiness. This is despite the fact that modern technology has confirmed what people have long known: that the unborn is a distinct, whole, living, human being from conception.

Additionally, those who have forsaken raising their children in order to seek wealth and status in the corporate world are now teaching their daughters that they, too, will be happiest if they reject biblical femininity and take on the roles of the worldliest men, striving after selfish ambition and higher paychecks, despite correlated plummeting levels of happiness among women.

Furthermore, many women who damaged or destroyed their own ability to connect deeply with a good man through sexual promiscuity during their youth are either passively condoning or actively promoting that same lifestyle of promiscuity for their daughters today. The same single women who are crying on social media about how they’re unable to experience attraction to honest, hardworking, kind, generous men after having had sex with fifty or more “hot men” who treated them poorly somehow find the inner duplicity to teach their daughters born out of wedlock that giving “gorgeous” men sex without commitment is empowering. And then these same “empowered” women congratulate themselves and their daughters for neglecting their children, abandoning them to government employees for eight hours a day of discipleship in the ways of Caesar so they can impress their neighbors and buy more stuff with the $15/hour they’ve earned at the expense of raising up the next generation. 

And women are not the only ones who handle regret by encouraging even greater sin in the next generation. How many men do you know who give all their health and energy to the pursuit of success in their career, whether corporate or ministry, only to find themselves lonely, isolated, and depressed, and yet they encourage their children to follow the same path? Why don’t they, instead, teach the next generation that abandoning their families for the sake of “success” at work is not worth the loss of intimacy, acceptance, support, and happiness at home?

How many men do you know who, in their youth, chose a woman for marriage who had nice legs, a big chest, a slim waist, and a symmetrical face, but lacked character, wisdom, knowledge, thriftiness, and a propensity towards self-sacrifice? Some of these men are using their remaining years to make sure as many young men as possible know how much they will regret their decision beginning around age 35. But others carry on affirming young women for their fleeting youth and beauty while saying nothing of the impending disaster that awaits those who choose superficial women.

So what is the alternative?

Although we can’t go back in time and undo our regretful decisions, there is a far superior response to the evil of encouraging and affirming those who make the same mistakes we made. We can ask for the Lord’s forgiveness, grieve our losses, and devote our remaining time and energy in this life to teaching the younger generation what we wish we had known when we were their age. This is by far the least popular path. Wisdom is out of style in our debauched culture today, while youth and beauty are in. Many will not listen to the wisdom we have to share. They will instead follow their hearts, seek to please the crowds, and before long find themselves living with the same regrets they could have avoided by listening to the wisdom of others. But it is not our responsibility to force fools to embrace our wisdom; it is our responsibility to share it.

This path requires great humility. After all, to admit that we made bad decisions can be embarrassing. It can be humiliating. But it is also freeing. And it is the only path forward that brings good out of the bad. 

We can’t undo the past, but there is a way to make the most of the present as we await a glorious future in which we are no longer hindered or grieved by the decisions of the past. We must acknowledge our sins, repent of our former ways, accept the consequences of our foolishness, and teach the next generation, not to outdo us in evil so that we may feel better about ourselves, but to avoid the evils that we have done, so that we may be able to say with the apostle Paul, “Therefore, my brethren, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm thus in the Lord, my beloved.” (Philippians 4:1)