january: beginnings, changes, and what to do with regret.

2022 really hit the ground running for me! Since a lot of my life right now can really be split into the two categories of ministry and life, I’ll go ahead and give a quick survey of both. I will then end with an update about my “soul”, or things that are weighing on my heart and mind.

Generally speaking, my updates will follow this format: ministry, life, and soul (since this is the first rodeo, I thought I’d brief you all on this first, but for future reference, I will usually just jump right in).

Let’s begin.

Ministry

Ministry-wise, we had an incredible Winter Retreat at the beginning of January that saw 41 college students and young adults travel up to Camp Alta to spend some time looking at God’s Word, worshipping, and fellowshipping together. I’ve been part of a lot of camps and retreats, and I have to say that this one was probably one of the best I’ve had the privilege of being a part of.

In a lot of ways, Winter Retreat was sort of a victory lap for the ministry of Kaleo (for those who don’t know, Kaleo is the name of the college and young adult ministry that I lead). The last year and a half that I’ve been here at the church, we have had our fair share of challenges and ups and downs – from being forced to literally gather around bonfire pits (during covid, in the dead of Winter, and often in the midst of dense night fog), to trying to figure out how to do a Summer Camping Trip for the first time with absolutely no prior experience doing so.

But by the grace of God, Kaleo has grown both spiritually and numerically, to the point that we are averaging about 55-60 students weekly on our Thursday night gatherings. A good number of those folks happened to be at Winter Retreat, and the laughter, conversation, encouragement, and prayer which took place at Retreat was simply a culmination of everything the Holy Spirit has already done within our group.

One of the coolest moments that took place for me personally was hearing a seasoned leader of the college ministry a few days after the retreat recount past years of hardships and trials within the group. They shared how seeing God’s faithfulness come to fruition now was an incredible encouragement to them, especially in light of all the ways the ministry struggled in years past. But what was so encouraging to me in that moment, was the recognition that it was actually the very faithfulness of this leader, and others like him, that made God’s blessing on the ministry today possible.

“Faithfulness” when growth and fruit are evident is easy. But faithfulness in the desert of toil and hardship is what really matters. I’m a witness to that truth.

Currently, Kaleo is going through a new series called ‘Covenant’, where we are surveying the major covenants of Scripture (Adamic, Noahic, Abrahamic, Mosaic, Davdic, and New) and learning about the depths of God’s chesed, or covenantal love, for us. My prayer is that God would continue to put us in awe of His covenantal faithfulness to us, and also continue to sanctify us into the kinds of people who show forth covenantal faithfulness to others.

Life

Personally, life has mostly been a process of anticipating transitions, both for myself and for others. Some of those transitions have to do with two friends entering into marriage (Caleb, my roommate; and Willy, an old friend from college).

Incredibly, both of these friends have asked me to be in their weddings, which I feel immensely honored by. Being a groomsman also means getting to enjoy and partake in fun bachelor parties, which the month of January was full of: for Willy, we rented sports cars and drove up and down the coast and winding mountain roads; for Caleb, we got to spend some extended time in a house north of Bodega Bay with great food and hiking.

I’m incredibly thankful for both of these friends, and can’t wait to see both of them get married. Also, did I mention that their weddings are only one day apart in March, and in two totally different parts of California? So things are probably going to get a little crazy around then!

With Caleb moving out of the house next month as he gets married, and another roommate moving out in the Summer, it looks like the days of living at Garden Rose Drive may be numbered (or at the very least, the future of its inhabitants will look different than it does now). This has carried with it a mixture of grief and frustration at the fact that good things have a tendency not to last. But I also know that where there are endings, there are also new beginnings and new opportunities for deeper joy. I’ve been praying that God would give me the eyes to see these, and the heart to trust Him as I walk in faith where He leads.

Soul

Some people probably don’t know this, but I regularly see a Christian therapist.

I’m a big supporter of therapy (provided it is rooted in the Christian worldview with the Bible as its highest authority; however, I am against “biblical counseling”, or nouthetic counseling, which does not integrate any psychology or psychiatry; but I digress). Therapy has definitely helped me sort out a lot of my junk, and has also forced me to ask the hard questions I’m often afraid to.

But one of those questions has really been on my mind recently. And it’s the question of what a Christian is supposed to do with regret.

In one of my recent sessions with my therapist, we had an interesting discussion about regret that I haven’t been able to resolve. Because regret is an interesting word in the life of a believer. It’s one of those words which describes an emotion and disposition of the heart that, at times, is totally appropriate and even necessary to have as a Christian. When we are confronted by our sin and see the ways in which it has hurt others, we ought to feel regret. When we know we have grieved God and grieved others, we ought to feel regret. Because ultimately, regret ought to lead to repentance, and repentance is always good (I say that totally unironically).

And so regret can be good.

That is, as long as it’s temporary.

But when regret starts to linger, that’s when I’ve found that a lot of Christians start to feel uncomfortable.

Regret is supposed to be an over-the-counter drug for the soul like Tylenol – there to help your soul have an appropriate response to a temporary problem, but not meant to stay any longer than it has to. And when regret lingers, it becomes like that one guy at the party or celebration who is inconveniently sulking, while everyone else is there to have a good time. They may try to cheer him up for a few minutes. But then things just get awkward, until eventually everyone just decides to avoid him. At least, that’s the way that it can sometimes feel.

Here’s the thing, friends.

I still have regret. A lot of it.

Some are minor regrets, from moments of stupidity or missed opportunities. But most are from two and a half years ago. When I hurt someone I really loved and lost them because of it. And it hasn’t really gone away.

That isn’t to say that I haven’t found healing, or haven’t felt forgiven by God, or haven’t experienced a measure of redemption from my regrets (more on that later). I’ve actually experienced all of those and more.

I have found in my pain that the Father is gentle and long-suffering with those who are hurting, even when they least deserve it (that undeserving person would be me). I have known in deeper ways than before that the grace of Jesus Christ is sufficient for me. And because of my mistakes, I know for a fact that I’m more compassionate and wiser than I would have been otherwise – and I have seen in very tangible ways how everything that I walked through was used for the comfort and good of others (2 Corinthians 1:3-7, Genesis 50:20, Romans 8:28). I don’t have a theological or an experiential deficit in these matters.

But I definitely still have regret.

Regret that still causes memories to come flooding back when I hear certain songs or read certain words. Regret that still causes me to grieve from time to time, in quiet moments alone. Regret that, after all the moments of healing and reassurance and redemption have passed, you still have to learn how to carry.

There’s no script for Christians on this one.

Mostly, because it hasn’t really been written. And partly because we wouldn’t like the answer if it had been. Even as I talked it through with my counselor, the best words he had to offer me at the end of the day were, “You’re going to have to find a way through this on your own, Andrew. No one can do it for you.” It sounds a bit harsh, but it’s also exactly right.

And so I’m going to say something that I may not be allowed to say, but I think should be said. And it’s this:

I’ve realized that regret – for all the incredible good that it can lead to through Christ’s healing hand, His sufficient grace, and His redemptive work – is ultimately something you just have to learn to live with.

Sometimes, there isn’t a Hallmark ending that brings understanding, peace, and reconciliation to your past mistakes. Sometimes, there’s just a trail of destruction and heartache in the wake of your choices, and the people that suffer most are the people you love. And sometimes, nothing you do can ever change that, no matter how much you want it to.

And that’s okay. Seriously.

In the film The Apostle Paul, which dramatizes the last weeks of Paul’s life before he is executed, the film brilliantly portrays the angst that Paul has of his former life as a persecutor and executioner of the early church. Although he’s at peace with the fruitful life of ministry he has led, he is still sometimes haunted by dreams and memories of his life before meeting Christ on the Damascus Road.

I’m not sure if the movie’s dramatization of Paul’s regret over his past is completely accurate, but I do know that in 1 Corinthians 15:9-10, he wrote,

^{“For I am the least of the apostles, unworthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain“,}

and in 1 Timothy 1:15-16,

^{“The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life.“}

Maybe calling these two passages examples of Paul’s regret over his former life as a grievous sinner, whose actions caused irrevocable harm to others, is a stretch. But one thing is clear: Paul’s understanding of his sinful and regrettable past was ultimately part of the groundwork of his motivations to reach others with gospel, and love them toward the truth of its redeeming power.

At the end of the day, my regret is part of who I am.

Yes, it’s the reason I often move in and out of the shadows of grief. But it’s also the reason I love and fight and pray for those in my care: so that they don’t have to make the same mistakes I made. And if my regret can produce hope and joy in others – if it means that it can give others the chance to live a better story – then that is my path. And perhaps the greatest redemption for me lies at the end of it.

There’s a great line in The Return of the King film that is spoken between Aragorn and Elrond that says, “I give hope to others; I keep none for myself.” I feel like this line describes the way I’ve been feeling as of late pretty well.

But Jesus has been faithful to keep reminding me, in a voice that is kind and gentle to the bruised reeds of the earth,

“Remember that I reserve hope for you.”

I believe that.
But Jesus, help me with my unbelief.

Sola Dei Gloria,
Andrew