The golden hues of autumn faded into the chill of winter, as he sat in his modest room, surrounded by the echoes of a life that was well lived, but deeply flawed. At the age of seventy-seven, the vigor of youth had given way to the frailty of age, hands that once gripped the plow now trembled over a worn Bible, eyes that once scanned the horizons now strain to trace the faded ink of cherished verses.
The world beyond his window rushed onward, but there, in that sacred pause, he confronted the tapestry of his days: threads of triumph interwoven with strands of sorrow, illuminated by the unchanging light of Christ’s mercy. There was more to this than mere reminiscence; it was a testimony to the forgiveness of the broken as well as a testimony to the regrets which haunted and the grace that healed.
As a child, he pursued fleeting treasures of this world with a zeal that blinded him to the eternal. Proverbs 14:12 warns, “There is a path that appears right, but in the end it leads to death.” How true it proved to be for him. He chased promotions and possessions, building his own kingdom while neglecting the One True King. Sundays, once filled with joy of fellowship and a swell of congregational hymns, became casualties as a result of ambition. A thirst that only deepened was quenched by trading the living water of John 4:14 for stagnant pools of self-sufficiency. His wife, his Proverbs 31 woman, bore the weight of his distractions with quiet strength, her prayers a lifeline that he too often ignored. And his children, gifts from the Lord, as Psalm 127:3 declares, grew up in a partial shade of the father’s divided heart, learning from him the importance of relationships rooted in Christ over success measured in dollars.
His soul’s detours were charted by regret, that unrelenting companion. As a young man, when trials tested his faith as fire refines gold (1 Peter 1:7), he chose the broad path of isolation over the narrow path of community during his middle years. As a result of his pride, his friendships, those divine appointments meant to sharpen one another as iron sharpens iron (Proverbs 27:17), withered.
The steadfast brother Elias, whose counsel was able to pierce even the darkest doubts, was recalled by him. Elias offered a hand clasped in prayer when his ventures crumbled as the walls of Jericho did under misplaced trust. However, he withdrew, concealing his vulnerabilities in excuses, fearing that his frailties would be revealed to God and to others. Years later, at Elias’s homegoing service, he stood silently, echoing the prodigal’s remorse in Luke 15.
What number of missed mercies piled up at his feet, stumbling blocks on his journey to the cross?
The sharpest thorns, however, sprang from the wounds he inflicted in Christ’s name, however without His love. As James points out, the tongue is a fire that can ignite a life’s course. His tongue, unchecked by the Spirit’s gentle reins, scorched the tender hearts entrusted to him. His dismissal of his daughter, whose artistic soul mirrored the Creator’s own creativity in Genesis 1, prioritized practicality over passion, speaking words of dismissal.
As she pursued God’s unique calling, he unwittingly quenched the Spirit’s flame by urging her to focus on the secure (1 Thessalonians 5:19). She extended forgiveness through tear-streaked letters, but the rift lingered, a call to repentance on his part. When his son faced shadows that only the Light of the World could dispel (John 8:12), he perceived his impatience as judgment rather than compassion.
While guiding the boy towards his vision, he ignored Romans 12:2’s plea that we be transformed through the renewal of our minds. Although the Psalmist assures the brokenhearted that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted” (Psalm 34:18), bridges burned in haste, connections frayed by unyielding pride were funeral dirges of opportunities lost.
Deeper still pierced the ache of his spiritual wandering, a prodigal drift from the Father’s house. Raised on the milk and meat of Scripture (1 Corinthians 3:2), he knew the shepherd’s voice calling him home. However, doubts and distractions lured him into valleys of decision, where he feasted on husks of worldly wisdom rather than the bread of life (John 6:35). The prayers became routine, the devotionals became dusty, until faith became a Sunday suit, worn for display rather than to surrender.
In storms that raged , bereavements that shook his foundations, temptations that battered like waves on Galilee, he relied on his own strength, forgetting Isaiah 41:10: “Fear not, for I am with you.” The emptiness that followed was a holy hunger, which drew him back to the foot of the cross, where regrets were dissolved in the crimson flow of Calvary’s forgiveness.
Now, as shadows lengthened and eternity beckoned, these confessions flooded like the Jordan at flood stage, threatening to submerge. Though his frame weakened, aches that echo the thorns of Gethsemane, breaths that whispered of the grave, hope rose unbidden in the crucible. As the gospel promises restoration rather than condemnation, it states that “if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins.” (1 John 1:19).
No regret is too great for His boundless love, and no failure is beyond the reach of resurrection. During these waning days, he wrote psalms of thanksgiving, letters containing intercession for his family, and reclaimed the altar of daily abiding in (John 15:5), the vine entwined with the branches.
Embrace Ephesians 5:15-16 as a clarion from one who has tasted both the bitterness of waywardness and the sweetness of returning grace. If these words stir your spirit, please heed them as a clarion from one who has tasted both bitterness and sweetness. Nurture your loved ones with agape that covers a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8). Walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8), letting His Word serve as a light for your feet (Psalm 119:105).
In quiet moments, listen for the Spirit’s whisper, and when you stumble, as we all do. Run into the open arms of the Savior who declares, “It is finished” (John 19:30).
These fragments, which had once been chains, were now badges of a life redeemed, testifying to the God who makes all things new (Revelation 21:5) as his earthly pilgrimage neared its end. In His presence, all tears are wiped away and all wrongs are made right. Thus, with Paul, he continued on toward the prize, yielding his final breaths to the One who holds eternity. God be glorified forever and ever. Amen.
