The Woeful World of ‘Woulda,’ ‘Coulda,’ and ‘Shoulda’

Do you have any regrets? If you don’t, you’re a member of a very exclusive minority. Because whether they’re large or small, regrets are something most of us possess.

 

Even Frank Sinatra, the iconic crooner, had them. In his classic ballad, “My Way,” he sang, “…Regrets, I've had a few. But then again, too few to mention.” Frankly (see what I did there?), I think he might have been untruthful about the “too few” part, but we’ll never know for sure.

 

Regrets come in all shapes and sizes. It might be passing a highway exit and then quickly regretting it, realizing the call of nature might not wait for the next exit. Or it might be missing a long-awaited TV show and realizing you didn’t set the VCR to record for future viewing. Or surrendering to that second piece of cake that looked too enticing to pass up.

 

Then there are more consequential regrets, such as choosing one college over another; taking one job rather than waiting for another, more desirable opportunity; not making an investment that years later would have paid off handsomely.

 

Often regrets involve relationships, like leaving the love of one’s life behind and later realizing with great sadness that he or she was ‘the one.’ If you’ve ever watched Hallmark movies (I think my wife and I have viewed too many), you’ll recognize that as a recurring theme.

 

Harry Chapin’s folk-rock song of the early ‘70s, “Cat’s in the Cradle,” is all about regrets. It tells of a father who was never available as his son grew up, ignoring key moments to make a connection. The little boy repeatedly asks, “When you coming home, dad?” To which the father responds, “I don’t know when – but we’ll get together then. You know we’ll have a good time then.”

 

At the end of the tune, when the indifferent dad finally finds time for his now-grown son, the son has become the too-busy one. “When you coming home, son?” “I don’t know when. But we’ll have a good time then.” The song’s moral? “…it occurred to me, he’d grown up just like me. My boy was just like me.”

 

When expressing regrets, we use words like “woulda,” “coulda,” and “shoulda”: ‘If I had known that was going to happen, I woulda….’ ‘Thinking about it now, I guess I coulda….’ ‘Gosh darn it, I shoulda….’

 

I think of it as the Woeful World of Woulda, Shoulda, and Coulda. The problem is, wishing we had done something – or had not done something – does little good after the fact. That’s where regrets and even remorse come in, dwelling on such failings. 

 

What can we do with nagging regrets? While we can’t undo what we’ve done – or do things we now know we should have done (there’s that shoulda word) – we can learn from them for now and for the future. We can stop piling regret upon regret upon regret.

 

If anyone could or should have been overwhelmed by regrets, it was the apostle Paul. As Saul, a very proud and prominent Pharisee, he had made it his personal mission to seek out, persecute and even kill followers of Jesus. At the time, he believed he was doing God – and Judaism – a great favor.

 

He was present when Stephen, a devoted Christ follower described as “a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit” (Acts 6:5), was killed for proclaiming the Gospel. As Stephen was dragged out of Jerusalem and stoned, “the witnesses laid their clothes at the feet of a young man named Saul…. And Saul was there, giving approval to his death” (Acts 7:58-60).

 

Can you imagine the regret Paul must have felt upon being converted and turning into one of Christ’s most zealous evangelists?

 

And that’s not all. Barnabas had been one of Paul’s greatest advocates after his conversion, and they had traveled together on several important mission trips. But the two clashed over John Mark, a relative of Barnabas who had bailed on one of their early journeys. When John Mark wanted to rejoin them, “Paul did not think it wise to take him, because he had deserted them in Pamphylia and had not continued with them in the work. They had such a sharp disagreement that they parted company” (Acts 15:37-40). 

 

Turns out, all John Mark did was to be God’s instrument for writing the Gospel of Mark. In one of his later letters, Paul indirectly acknowledged Barnabas’ better judgment. He wrote, “Get Mark and bring him with you, because he is helpful to me in my ministry” (2 Timothy 4:11).

 

Did Paul indulge himself in a pity party, wallowing in a boatload of wouldas, couldas and shouldas? Not at all. In a different letter the apostle declared, “…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 3:13-14).

Like Paul, we’re to leave our yesterdays in the loving arms of God the Father, forgiving ourselves as He has forgiven us. We can also learn from our failures and take responsibility for the present moment; and trust that through Christ’s power we’ll do better in the future. A future unburdened by regrets. 

The Three R’s (After Wrongdoing)

How do you react when you’ve done something wrong? Do you settle for “Oops!”? Or, “Sorry, my bad”? Pretend it didn’t happen? Blame someone else?

Little wrongs, like accidentally bumping into someone, spilling your coffee, or being late for a meeting, aren’t that big a deal. A quick apology and it’s all good. But what about the times when the magnitude of your wrongdoing can’t be glossed over so quickly? What then?

Chances are you choose one of three options. You’ve heard of the “three R’s” of basic education – readin’, ‘ritin’, and ‘rithmetic? (At least I think they still teach those things in our schools.) There are also three R’s after wrongdoing: Regret. Remorse. Repentance.

It’s often hard to say, “I was wrong” or “I am sorry.” We don’t like to admit we’re wrong. We resent being found out, and if possible, might try to ignore or cover up any wrongdoing. Some of the folks we elect to serve us in Washington, D.C. – on both sides of the aisle – seem adept at the latter.

But what about when wrongdoing is indisputable, our hands caught in the proverbial cookie jar? Do we settle for regret, wallow in remorse, or choose to repent? Each starts with the letter “r,” but that’s where the similarity ends.

When aware we’ve done wrong, feeling some measure of regret is common. “Wish I hadn’t done that.” Like when we misjudge the distance to the car behind us in the parking lot and suddenly hear, “Crunch!” Or put our mouth in gear while our brain is still in park, and say something we quickly wish we could retract. Unfortunately, in oral communications, retractions rarely work.

Other times we feel more than regret – we’re overcome with remorse. Perhaps an action (or series of actions) destroys a relationship. Or a dishonest or unethical act ruins a career and darkens a once bright future. Consequences of the wrongdoing command our attention, immersing us in self-pity.

Lastly, there’s repentance, compelling us to seek to make right what went wrong, accept responsibility, and resolve not to follow that path again. After acknowledging the effects of a harmful habit, negative behavior, or even malicious thought patterns, a moment comes when “I’m sorry” is no longer enough. Genuine, lasting change is required.

Two things the Bible talks about a lot are sin – and repentance. Most of us are familiar with sin, at least to some degree. It’s part of our spiritual DNA, traced back to Adam, and comes naturally. To repent and turn to God in sincere repentance does not.

The Scriptures offer a contrast between remorse and repentance in Judas and Peter, two of Jesus Christ’s closest followers. Both betrayed Him, but their responses afterward made all the difference. An eternal difference.

The gospels offer accounts of Judas betraying Christ. Matthew 27 states it gained him 30 pieces of silver. Judas led a crowd to Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, where he boldly identified Him for the arresting officials. The gospels show Peter guilty of a different form of betrayal. He and another disciple, John, had followed Jesus, standing nearby during His mock trial. Then, as Jesus predicted, Peter denied Him three times when confronted about being among His followers.

The degree of the betrayals might have been different, but both were betrayals.

What’s important is what the men did next. Judas, remorseful for what he had done, returned the money to the priests – then hanged himself. Swallowed up in self-pity over what he had done, he chose to end the pain by committing suicide.

The other disciple, however, responded very differently. Distraught over having verbally betrayed his great friend, Peter fled from the scene but later reconnected with the remaining disciples. Broken by his own cowardice, Peter was no longer the brash, impulsive person he once was.

In the last chapter of the gospel of John, we see repentant Peter humbly interacting with the resurrected Christ. Shorn of bold declarations, Peter no longer was inclined to promise what he might not be able to keep. But in a wonderful demonstration of grace and mercy, Jesus restored the man He had nicknamed “the rock,” telling him, “Feed my sheep…. Follow me!” (John 21:15-19).

What the Lord expects of us often is not what we expect. We think in terms of impressive service, or lavish material contributions to advance His kingdom. But Psalm 51:17 states plainly what He desires: “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”

When we sin, our lives going off track, the Lord is just as eager to restore us as He was Peter. But He doesn’t want regret; nor is remorse enough. Repentance is what He’s after.

Jesus made this clear from the start of His earthly ministry, “From that time on Jesus began to preach, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near’” (Matthew 4:17). Later He declared, “there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent” (Luke 15:7). There’s no limit to the wondrous things He can do through someone with a repentant, contrite heart.

Three R’s for Wrongdoing

Back in 1960, pint-sized songstress Brenda Lee had a hit tune called, “I’m Sorry.” In the lyrics, she was “so sorry,” and asked whoever she was singing to, “please accept my apology.” I’m not sure about Ms. Lee, but experience has taught me that when people say they’re sorry, they don’t always mean what we think they mean. There are, we might say, “three R’s for wrongdoing.”

The first R is regret. Confronted with their wrongs, without a defense for their actions, some people react with regret. This is like the child that stares at the floor and mutters, “Sorry.” Lack of sincerity is pretty obvious. The same goes for adults. They may utilize better body language, but in essence they’re saying, “Sorry I got caught. I should have done a better job of covering my tracks.” Not a lot of genuine sorrow in this “sorry” response.

Cain, Adam and Eve’s first son, took this approach after killing his brother, Abel, in a fit of sibling jealousy. God asked, “Where is your brother, Abel?” Cain shrugged his shoulders and replied, ”I don’t know. Am I my brother’s keeper?” (Genesis 4:1-9). Young people today would put it this way: “Oh, man! Busted!” Cain might have been thinking, “You can’t get away with anything around here!”

The second R is remorse. Not necessarily regretting the actions, but hating the consequences. Still not inclined to admit the seriousness of our wrongdoing, we can feel remorse because we know we’re going to the penalty box. Cain used this kind of response, too. Cursed by God to become a lifelong fugitive, without fruitful results from his labors, the first homicide perpetrator groaned, “My punishment is more than I can bear. Today (God) you are driving me from the land, and I will be hidden from your presence; I will be a restless wanderer on the earth…” (Genesis 4:13-14).

Nowhere in this account do we see Cain acknowledging the gravity of his crime, or feeling the least bit mournful about taking the life of his sibling. Cain’s only concern was the severe punishment he would have to endure.

Maybe the best biblical example of remorse was Judas, who betrayed Jesus. Matters had escalated beyond what he'd anticipated. The Scriptures tell us, “When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty silver coins to the chief priests and elders. ‘I have sinned,’ he said, ‘for I have betrayed innocent blood'” (Matthew 27:3-4).

Even then, however, Judas’ “I’m sorry” was self-centered. Realizing returning the money wouldn’t stop the chain of events, the next verses states, he “threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself.” Overcome with remorse and unable to cope with the guilt, Judas took his own life to stop the pain.

The final R is repentance. Not only recognizing a wrong that’s been committed, but also being genuinely sorrowful for it. The root of the word, “repent,” means, as one dictionary defines it, “to turn from sin and dedicate oneself to the amendment of one's life.”

Repentance is the “I’m sorry” God accepts. The apostle Paul expressed it this way: “Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done” (2 Corinthians 7:10-11).

This form of “I’m sorry” doesn’t apply just to those who have been living apart from the Lord and need to establish a new relationship with Him – although it’s a necessary first step. Repentance applies to all of us who profess to be Christ followers, regardless of how long that has been.

The apostle John, in recording visions he had received from God, addressed this point with the church at Ephesus. Affirming the believers there, he observed, “I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance….. You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary.” However, this was classic “good news, bad news.” Because then John wrote, “You have forsaken the love you had at first. Consider how far you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place” (Revelation 2:1-5).

The Ephesians had been doing good, working hard, and persevering in faith. Then came the big “BUT.” They had “lost their first love,” as another translation puts it. Their zeal and dedication had wavered, and they had apparently fallen into spiritual compromise.

We’d be wise to consider this admonition ourselves, because walking consistently and faithfully with the Lord isn’t easy. Even if we did well yesterday, that doesn’t mean we’ll do well today – or tomorrow. As we’re warned in 1 Corinthians 10:12, “So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!”

Maybe if we endeavor never to lose our first love, the brokenness of repentance might not be needed nearly as often.