by Anna Haiar

When the Past is not yet “Past”

You can listen to today’s devotion by listening to this SoundCloud link.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
Isaiah 55:8-9 English Standard Version

For me, fall is typically a time of reflection over the past year. As life begins to slow down in preparation for the winter season, I find myself thinking of all the “shoulda, woulda, couldas” and unmet plans and goals that I set for myself at the beginning of the year. It’s not that I haven’t accomplished anything, but rather, lofty dreams and plans remain unfulfilled and unfinished. They are mostly trivial things, like plans for the greenhouse or the barn, that really have no bearing on my family’s future or my own personal growth.

Inevitably, this reflection turns into deeper remorse over things I wish I had done in earlier years: I wish I had left my corporate job sooner to focus on raising a family; I wish I had parented differently in those early days when I didn’t know better; I wish I hadn’t given up running as a hobby; I wish I knew then what I know now; and the list goes on. Those reflections are harder to reconcile and can often cause questioning and doubt. If God knew I was going to end up in this place, with this life, then why did He allow me to make those decisions? What was the purpose?

There comes a point when the questions begin to fade into silence — not because they’re answered, but because we realize the answers may not bring the peace we’re searching for. I’ve spent many seasons asking why: Why didn’t God steer me differently? Why did He let me learn the hard way? Why didn’t He close the door before I walked through it? Yet, over time, I’ve come to understand that regret often stems from the illusion that we could have written a better story for ourselves. The passage in Isaiah reminds us that God’s ways are higher, not just in wisdom, but in love.

God sees the full tapestry of our lives while we only see the thread in front of us. Every misstep, delay, and detour becomes a place where His grace meets us. Perhaps the choices I wish I could change were never detours at all, but part of the very road He used to shape my heart, deepen my faith, and teach me dependence on Him. Sometimes the unanswered questions are His gentle invitation to stop wrestling with the “what-ifs” and instead rest in the assurance that His plan has always been good — even when I couldn’t see it.

Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting the past; it means surrendering it. It means trusting that the same God who allowed those decisions also promises to redeem them. When I stop fixating on what might have been and begin to thank Him for what is, my heart softens to His ongoing work. Every regret becomes a reminder that He is not finished writing my story.

Copyright Family of Christ Lutheran Church, Colorado Springs, Colorado