Fearing My Past

   A friend I hadn’t seen for 40 years opened the front door of her beautiful two- story home.  With a mutual hello-hug, I sheepishly blurted, “The first thing I want to say is I’m sorry for all the stupid things I did when we were kids!”  Cathy politely waved off my apology, “It’s so good to see you! Come in and sit down.”  

   Living across the street from one another in our grade school years, Cathy and I had spent a lot of time together playing with dolls and records in my bedroom or her basement.  A few years older but obviously not wiser, I was the one who instigated our first cigarette smoking and beer drinking attempts. Fortunately neither experience went well (“ Yuk, I think I’m sick”) nor became a habit for either of us. 

   

As we talked, Cathy impressed me with her memory of our adventures, and former neighbors’ names.   We attempted to catch up on the places we had lived, jobs, loved ones, and the many other blessings we independently received.

   “Remember when your dad used to drive us to that dance place in West Allis? Electric Club or something like that? ” She asked.  “Oh my gosh, the Factory!  We thought we were hot stuff on the dance floor.”  My blurred memories came back into focus. 

   Two hours seemed only minutes long as we talked, and laughed over yellowed photos.  What a joy to renew a friendship.  Why had I been nervous about this opportunity?

   Planning this reunion had prompted reflection with some embarrassment on my past.  Realizing every person is born selfish, I don’t berate my childhood self too much for normal, albeit unholy, tendencies. A counselor might suggest little Suzie needed more encouragement to try, do and learn from mistakes or success.  Whatever the environmental or inherited causes, I remember craving praise and attention to such an extreme, it often led to poor choices, even before the hormonal roller coaster began.  The focus of my adolescent years could be summarized by the song lyric, “looking for love in all the wrong places." 

Where was my childhood faith?  From first grade on, patient Sunday school teachers and Girl Pioneer leaders gave me a good foundation in Bible stories and truths.  Why the disconnect to 24/7 life?   Should I excuse or ignore my past, and pray Jesus does too?

Psalm 103:8, 10   The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.  He does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities.

   

   Now, being a vintage Christ-follower, I am surprised how thoughts of childhood had revealed shame and fear.  Self-doubt creeps in and attempts to overwhelm, no matter what stage of life, by ignoring consistent growth in His Word.

   Should I care about what others think of me or my past?  Do true friends look at me as critically as I look on myself?  Or might they be remembering more of their sins than mine?  Thank you, Lord, for the forgiveness of friends.

  

One of my favorite Scripture promises is “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning  (Lamentations 3: 22,23). 

Every 24 hours the sun erases the darkness and grants a new start.  Every confession in Christ’s court is met with forgiveness. I can place the fears and guilt of my past, present and future, in my Savior’s pierced, loving hands.  

Psalm 103: 11,12  For as high as the heavens are above the earth,  so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west,  so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

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---Share in the comments, if you’d like, how God has helped you with fears from your past. --