As we journey
through life, many difficult questions confront us. Few are more perplexing
than the universal interrogative, “What if?”
You know: “What
if I had done this, instead of doing that?” or, “What if I made that decision,
instead of this one?” For many people, the echoes of “what if” plague them
throughout their adult lives. They wonder what might have been if they had gone
to a different college, if they had taken a different job, or if they had
married someone else.
Sometimes it’s
a singular act: “What if I had turned left instead of right – or if I had just
kept going straight?” “What if I hadn’t canceled that appointment?” “What if I
had been better prepared for that interview?” “What if I had made that investment,
or taken that risk I chose to avoid?”
The problem
with what-if ponderings is there’s nothing we can do about them. They exist in
the increasingly distant past, and no amount of wishing or remorse can restore
them to the present. H.G. Wells’s fanciful time machine has yet to be invented,
and even if we could send ourselves back to fateful moments in our personal
histories, there’s no certainty we could change anything anyway. And if we
could, what might be the impact on the “space-time continuum,” as fretted the
characters in the film, “Back to the Future”?
In reality,
even if (sometimes it’s hard to escape
that “what if” phrase) we could alter decisions or actions in the past, there’s
no guarantee that the outcomes would have been better than what we’ve
experienced.
For instance, I
spent my first year of college in Houston, Texas, then transferred to the Ohio
State University, where I majored in journalism. What if I hadn’t transferred? Or
if I’d transferred, but not to Ohio State? I would have had a different set of
friends and professors. My career path probably would have been different,
perhaps dramatically so. I wouldn’t have become the ardent Buckeye fan that I
am. And I wouldn’t have met my wife in a Columbus, Ohio suburb, gotten married
and been blessed with the children and grandchildren we’ve had.
Sure, there are
things along the way I’d like to change. More than a few, actually. But even my
failures, blunders, and foolish decisions have turned into experiences from
which I’ve profited and grown. We often think, “If I only knew then what I know
now,” but usually we know things now because of mistakes we had to learn from
then.
If there was
anyone who wished he could change the past, it was the apostle Paul. A one-time
zealous persecutor of those who followed Jesus Christ, he literally saw the
light on the road to Damascus and became an irrepressible Christ follower
himself. He sometimes reflected on his past life, but ultimately concluded, “…But one thing I do: Forgetting what is
behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win
the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Philippians
3:12-14).
The apostle
wasn’t ignoring or excusing his previous actions and attitudes, but recognized
the futility of dwelling on the unchangeable past. Instead, he chose to focus
on the present and the future, intent on not adding to his collection of
regrets.
We also
have the assurance of knowing that when we act unwisely, God already has dealt
with the “what if” questions and ordained an acceptable resolution. “’For I know the plans I have for you,’
declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you
hope and a future’” (Jeremiah 29:11).
We needn’t
worry about foiling the Master Planner’s sovereign plans. He’s already studied
our lives, from beginning to end, and made contingencies for every “what if”
along the way. “All the days ordained for
me were written in your book before one of them came to be” (Psalm 139:16).
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