Strategy 5

Your Past

Ending the Reign of Guilt, Shame, and Regret

If I were your enemy, I’d constantly remind you of your past mistakes and poor choices. I’d want to keep you burdened by shame and guilt, in hopes that you’ll feel incapacitated by your many failings and see no point in even trying again. I’d work to convince you that you’ve had your chance and blown it—that your God may be able to forgive some people for some things, but not you . . . not for this.

It’s awful. And it’s personal.

A personal, unwelcome, unwarranted attack.

Using your forgiven past to poke holes in your future.

But that’s exactly what the enemy does. He absolutely loves living in the past.

In your past. In my past.

And why not? Some of his best opportunities to sabotage our potential comes from there.

He carefully archives footage from our history so he can pull from those files and remind us what our days of defeat, sin, and failure looked like. You’ve seen them, same as I have, a million times. If your life is anything like mine, I’d imagine he’s turned every room in the house into a screening room at one time or another, popping one of his old favorites into the player—for his amusement, for our humiliating shame and embarrassment.

It’s a painful thing to watch. Even in reruns. Especially in reruns . . . because every time he cues it up again, it’s with the fresh intent of mocking and maligning us, making us feel as unforgiven and unforgiveable as possible, and then even pointing the finger at all the other people who are more to blame, more at fault, than we should ever consider ourselves to be. If he can’t make us feel judged, he’ll try turning us into judges. So it’s quite a show he puts on. And quite depressing. Mostly because, as he loves reminding us, we’re the ones who’ve given him so much material to work with.

Under more constructive circumstances we might actually be able to learn from it—see another option we could’ve taken to avoid what ultimately happened, in order to not be so rash or gullible next time. We might be able to teach from it—help steer others who might one day face the same set of choices (our children, for example) toward an alternate ending that’s likely to result in something more favorable for them. But in the hands of the enemy, it’s always a horror film—run from it, hide from it—keep living and reliving it, over and over again. With no resolution, just a persistent dread and heartache. Never out of range from his cackling, accusing reappearance. Always at risk of having it jump up and scare us, just when we thought we and God had finally settled it for good.

And that’s how, instead of living with assurance, we become bombarded with shame. Instead of celebrating God’s grace, we feel undercut by continual guilt over the same old things. Instead of experiencing the ongoing, residual blessings of being regenerated by His Spirit—all things new—we’re caught in the spin cycle of ceaseless regrets.

But prayer—fervent, strategic prayer—can change things. Even unchangeable things. Even things as unchangeable as real-life scenes from your past—what you did, what you didn’t do, why you did it, why you didn’t. No, prayer doesn’t wipe them all away, doesn’t pretend they never happened. And, no, it doesn’t remove every natural, logical consequence from playing itself out. But just as God says to the ocean waves, “Thus far you shall come, but no farther” (Job 38:11), He has given us prayer to raise us up above the sea level of Satan’s assaults from our past.

My past, for example, includes some unfortunate travels on US Highway 59 North, a major thoroughfare that runs through the heart of Houston, Texas. I did my undergraduate work in that city, and like a lot of college kids, I occasionally went down the wrong road when I should’ve stayed on the high road—which for me, all too personally, includes one particular exit off 59 North that sort of symbolizes some of the most regrettable choices I’ve made in my life. That road led to nowhere healthy. Nowhere beneficial. Nowhere I should’ve been in the first place. Perhaps you can relate. Choose from your own roads.

Many years later, long after college, events took me back to Houston for a summer speaking engagement. My hosts for the weekend picked me up at the airport, I climbed alone into the backseat, and they proceeded to drive me toward the hotel where I’d be staying—a route that diverted us for several miles onto that old familiar 59 North.

Being the kind, hospitable women they were, they continued to chat merrily as we sped past the various reflective signs on the highway. I’m not sure they even noticed how gradually quiet I was becoming in the back. But the mile marker numbers we were passing weren’t just numbers to me; they were counting up to that one specific exit number that Satan was counting down in my mind with each condemning second. Flashbacks flooded. Tears began forming. I was fighting an old foe inside, and the spiritual battle was threatening to come spilling out all over.

And then . . . there it was. The exit ramp. The one I’d taken far too many times.

I couldn’t breathe. My heart beat fast. My palms moistened with sweat.

And then, almost like a short whoosh of wind . . . the sign was gone. We were past it.

And at that precise moment, I sensed the voice of God speaking so clearly to me, saying: Priscilla, wipe your tears away. That road is behind you now. I have other roads in store for you in the future, roads I’ve been preparing for you. Just as you’ve passed this exit of shame, so you now are beyond the pain that accompanied it. I make all things new.

All things . . . new.

I turned clear around, looked out the rear windshield, and watched that exit sign fade into the distance.

Suddenly, the lilt of my new friends’ voices bubbled back to the surface of my conscious hearing, and a fresh, rejuvenating smile strengthened my trembling lower lip. I looked ahead and, for the first time in my life, I saw what Houston looked like beyond that exit on 59 North, a stretch of road I’d never traveled before. And I saw a side of God’s grace that I’d never, ever experienced. The past was in the past. It didn’t have permission to touch me anymore. And just like on the freeway, I would soon be traveling to new places of freedom and fullness I’d never seen before.

It was done. I was free.

The enemy’s bad-girl accusations against us come with a statute of limitations. He can rant and threaten and how-dare-you all he wants, but here’s why you can plug your ears, ignore his accusations, and sing God’s praise while you walk away with real pardon in your heart.

First, God doesn’t live in the past. Because God—your God—exists outside of time. To Him, the past that so haunts and hamstrings you, the past that so ruffles and frustrates you, is not in the past at all. In prayer, you are alone with a God who sees you only as you are and have always been since that beautiful moment when you placed faith in Him—holy, righteous, and blameless; past, present, and future. He forgives your guilt, removes your shame, and declares His work an established, all-the-time fact. Prayer does a complete end run around Satan’s pitiful accusations, ushering us into an eternal realm with God where “the past” doesn’t even compute.

And second, we only live by grace anyway. All that stuff Satan tries hanging over our head—those forgiven failings of ours are no longer reasons for shame but are now monuments to the totally amazing grace of God. I mean, just look at what He is able to forgive. Even this. Even that. Yes, devil, even THAT! Isn’t God incredible? That He could forgive even that?!

The glory our God receives, and will eternally receive, from having saved our souls doesn’t come from all the good things we do for Him. His glory comes from creating people of purity and spiritual passion who once did things like that. Like we’ve done. Like you’ve done. Like I’ve done.

So talk it up, devil. Because as high as you choose to ratchet it up, you’re only showing off “the breadth and length and height and depth” (Eph. 3:18) of the love of Christ extended toward me!

Satan can be the “accuser of [the] brethren” all he wants to be (Rev. 12:10), but he can’t change what the cross has done to throw all his accusations out of court—every last one of them—on an undeniably divine technicality.

Again, one of the qualities that makes the gospel so real and so great is that it doesn’t eliminate our past but just so thoroughly deals with it. God forgives it. He changes it. He transforms all that mess into this huge mountain of grace that only takes us higher and closer to Him. So now, instead of being a reason for endless shame, guilt, and regret, our past is a reason for endless worship and free-flowing testimony.

And for continual, grateful, heartfelt prayer.

Call to Prayer

I realize, when I bring up the subject of the past, I have no real idea what populates that period of time for you. I hope you’ve seen, as I’ve talked about the height and depth of God’s love and grace (a phrase that comes from Ephesians 3:16–19) that I’m not minimizing what’s back there—the extent of what you’ve done or what’s been done to you. But the devil wants you to think that your past is worse than everybody else’s. Or he wants to suggest to you that, given your religious background and what you profess to be in public, your past sins (though perhaps not the shocking, scandalous type) still disqualify you from parading around all Christian-like.

Look, here’s the truth: There’s not one of us—not one—who can’t stare back into our past and wish a hundred times we’d done a hundred things differently. And the reason it’s only a hundred today is probably just because our memory isn’t what it used to be. Not to mention, despite our best efforts, we keep feeding our enemy new clips of failure to choose from and compile. And as soon as they fade into the past, he fires up the projector and invites himself over for popcorn, to make sure we’re seeing how bad it is and how bad we are.

Yes, we’re all on a journey here. We’re not perfect. We all struggle. We can tell from the fatigue we feel and the stiffness in our spiritual joints that we haven’t always taken good care of ourselves. But prayer wakes us up with mercies from God that are “new every morning” (Lam. 3:23). Prayer is how we start to stretch and feel limber again, feel loose, ready to take on the world. And when we start applying prayer to particular muscle groups—like our confidence in Christ and His victory over our past—our whole body and our whole being start to percolate with fresh energy, with the blood-pumping results of applied faith.

So as you begin crafting a strategy for crushing Satan’s backdoor assault on your daily freedom and joy, think back again to that helpful guide we’ve been using:

• Praise: Thank Him for completely forgiving you, cleansing you, changing you.
• Repentance: See the foolishness of anything that perpetuates old sin patterns, and by His Spirit walk away.
• Asking: Ask for freedom, for release, for the ability to deflect lies and embrace truth.
• Yes: Because you, by His resurrection power, can now walk in a new way of life.

Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come. (2 Cor. 5:17)

Once you were dead because of your disobedience and your many sins. You used to live in sin, just like the rest of the world, obeying the devil—the commander of the powers in the unseen world. He is the spirit at work in the hearts of those who refuse to obey God. All of us used to live that way, following the passionate desires and inclinations of our sinful nature. By our very nature we were subject to God’s anger, just like everyone else. But God is so rich in mercy, and he loved us so much, that even though we were dead because of our sins, he gave us life when he raised Christ from the dead. (It is only by God’s grace that you have been saved!) (Eph. 2:1–5 nlt)

Thus says the Lord . . .

Do not call to mind the former things,

Or ponder things of the past.

Behold, I will do something new,

Now it will spring forth;

Will you not be aware of it?

I will even make a roadway in the wilderness,

Rivers in the desert. (Isa. 43:16, 18–19)

Sing praise to the Lord, you His godly ones,

And give thanks to His holy name.

For His anger is but for a moment,

His favor is for a lifetime;

Weeping may last for the night,

But a shout of joy comes in the morning.
(Ps. 30:4–5)

He gives strength to the weary,

And to him who lacks might He increases power.

Though youths grow weary and tired,

And vigorous young men stumble badly,

Yet those who wait for the Lord

Will gain new strength;

They will mount up with wings like eagles,

They will run and not get tired,

They will walk and not become weary.
(Isa. 40:29–31)

He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. (2 Cor. 12:9)

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. (Heb. 13:8)

The past, for all its attempts at confining and condemning us, possesses limits that our enemy doesn’t want us to know about. Well, now we do. And so here we go. We’re moving on. And he can just sit back there in the dark and watch all those home movies of his, all by himself. Because our real life in Christ is just a lot more exciting.

Here’s to freedom . . . yours and mine.

In Jesus’ name.

Amen.