Sometimes I look in the mirror and I can see the ghosts
I've been trying to get rid of. It hurts to see all that progress break
apart in those little moments where my regret peeks out. It frowns at
me and ventures a little further out until I'm frowning too. The longer I
look, the more the memory spreads across my face onto my whole attitude
and pretty soon I've lost all my hard work and I'm left at square
one, face to face with the me I used to be.
This look, where my eyes
darken and the smile slips away, it speaks to my brain, whispers to my
heart. It lies to me again and again. It tells me I never should have
tried to be strong. It tries to convince me that my convictions don't
matter and that I wrecked every chance I had at a happy life. It stalks
my emotions and pokes my fear, my longing, my discontent, and desire.Regret grabs ahold of my sadness and drags it to the forefront. "See this?!" It asks. "This represents the fun you could have had if you weren't so stuck-up and righteous." Then It throws my sadness to the darkness and pulls out my loneliness. It dangles it in front of my face and sneers, "See here? This is that suitor you could have had if you weren't so picky!" This too, It tosses aside. Reaching farther into my heart, Regret reminds me of my failures. "This is quite a pile of sin you have here. What would happen if it was all uncovered and put on display? Where would you be then?"
It sits on the corner of a box of tears and taps a puddle that has formed on the ground. "You could have spared yourself all these tears. Look at them: what good did they do you? Just a lot of worthless sorrow."
Then It sits quietly, watching my back stoop with the weight of my regrets. It's content for now; I'm defeated, clawing at my heart, begging to feel anything other than this crippling agony.
There are long seconds of silence around me, but in my head are playbacks of every conversation where my view of right conflicted with the way I wanted to live. I'm reminded of every time I justified a step backward. Little excuses that brought me further away from purity and closer to pain. They flit in and out of my subconscious, dancing in my peripheral brain.
One by one they fade away. They've had their fun and now I'm on my hands and knees, struggling to breathe. I fight against Regret, but not for the reasons that It shoves in my face. It would have me believe that these pleasures on Earth are all I live for, all I fight for. But it's wrong. That's not why I'm here.
This realization, this thought, how am I even capable of thinking it? Here I am at the end of my rope and I'm reminded of the reason I stopped falling. I stopped giving in and I spoke from the Spirit. All my slipping and sliding was wrong. All my decisions to embrace this world were corrosive. With strength I cannot describe, I fought against my self. I made a choice, and I chose right instead of me. I said goodbye to fear, longing, discontent, and desire. I said goodbye to sadness and loneliness. I chose joy and hope instead. I embraced holiness and purity. I was given peace and I clung to it with every strength endowed. I called wisdom my sister and grace my companion. And every day I must choose these things again.
Every day I must lift up my pain to the Father and request His gift of forgiveness. Without Him, I am dead, swallowed in pity and buried in hate. With my God in Heaven, I am unstoppable. I am not of this world. I am a stranger, learning to trust my King and rely on His power and give Him glory day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, fall and rise, temptation and victory, sin and salvation.
Regret watched from a distance as all my convictions regained their footing in my heart and mind. It watched them rise up as an army led by a trustworthy Leader, and It disappeared. The light came back into my eyes and my mouth regained serenity. Ghosts like to think they have power. They pick and choose their weapons carefully, but they are no match for the One who created the universe. My God is holding on to me tighter than I can hold on to anything in this life.
