How do we stop regretting the past?
I had a divine right to replace disturbing memories with what was spiritually real and true.
There is nothing wrong with recalling the past and being grateful for the good experienced and the lessons learned. But what if regrets about the choices we’ve made and how we may have messed up haunt us like recurring bad dreams? Can we break free from ruminating over the could-haves, should-haves, and shouldn’t-haves that darken our days and often prevent us from moving forward?
Yes! Christian Science explains that mortal history does not originate in God, so it has no reality, substance, or power. “It is well to know, dear reader,” writes Mary Baker Eddy, “that our material, mortal history is but the record of dreams, not of man’s real existence, and the dream has no place in the Science of being.” She adds, “The human history needs to be revised, and the material record expunged” (Retrospection and Introspection, pp. 21–22).
So how do we expunge the material record? Saul, whose actions resulted in the imprisonment and even death of early Christians, shows us how much a life can be transformed through turning to God. After his conversion to Christianity, Saul, later known as the Apostle Paul, didn’t get trapped in self-condemnation over his mistakes—deeply serious as they were—which could have kept him from following Christ and doing tremendous good. Instead, he made a complete turnaround and moved forward devotedly in service to God.
Christian Science explains that mortal history does not originate in God, so it has no reality, substance, or power.
He wrote to Christians in one city: “Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13, 14).
Paul’s remarkable transformation and his allegiance to God ever after were a great inspiration to me years ago, even though my circumstances at the time were very different than his. I learned that mistakes are unknown to God and that through this understanding, we can expunge them from our thinking and experience.
As a young officer in the Australian Army during the Vietnam War, I served in South Vietnam for a year, commanding an infantry platoon of thirty soldiers. Under harrowing circumstances, we suffered casualties, which was deeply painful for me, as I valued each person in my platoon. In one particular clash with the enemy, I lost one soldier and another was seriously wounded.
During that year, I started reading the copy of Mrs. Eddy’s book Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures that my girlfriend had given me. As I thought about its teachings, I realized that Christian Science could make a difference for good in my life. And indeed, my platoon experienced protection from that time forward (see “Prayer brings peace and protection during wartime,” Sentinel, July 31, 2000).
In the years that followed, when I recalled my wartime service, I would sometimes be haunted by decisions I’d made. In those moments I would affirm that self-condemnation does not contribute to healing or growth; I had been serving my country and had acted in accord with my training and my highest sense of right.
However, during a particularly challenging period in my life, vivid memories of the war and the casualties were overwhelming. For some weeks, I was inundated with thoughts such as “You could have, should have, done better,” and “You failed in your duty as a leader.” It was as though mortal mind, a supposed mind apart from God, was trying to convince me that I was stuck in reliving loss and harm. This state of mind would neither help me move forward nor honor those who so honorably served.
Mistakes are unknown to God, and through this understanding we can expunge them from our thinking and our experience.
Recalling Mrs. Eddy’s instruction to revise the human history and expunge the material record, I prayed to understand more clearly that God does not see any of earth’s shadows, and that the real, spiritual identity of each individual is precious, permanent, and untouched by events of the past. On that basis, I had a divine right to replace the disturbing memories with what was spiritually real and true about both me and those with whom I had served—as well as the so-called enemy.
The vivid images quickly faded away, and shortly afterward, all sense of guilt and failure faded too and has never returned. To me, this proves in a small measure that “the dream has no place in the Science of being”—my and everyone’s true spiritual being.