The regret swallowed my heart as I heard Jesus say: "I don't know you." Worse, I knew what he meant: "You don't know me." I wanted in. But not enough to put aside what was unnecessary— I see that now. Oh how we can do so much and accomplish so little. Oh how we can speak so much and say so little. Oh how we can live so many lives and not yet live.
Journal with me.
In your pursuit of a life with God, what moments of presence have you mistakenly given up for things that mattered less?
Some thoughts.
Jesus tells a story about ten unmarried women who had the important task of escorting a groom with lamps during the night to the next part of a wedding ceremony.
Five were wise. Five were not.
The wise ones took extra oil for their lamps and the other five didn’t.
The moment came, and the five were able to continue their task and made it to the wedding banquet, while the others, after purchasing more oil, knocked on the door after it was already shut and heard the groom on the other side, “I don’t know you.”
There are numerous directions to take this parable. What it says to me is that when something, or someone, is important, we make the space. When that doesn’t happen, and we feel regret, it often reveals not that we didn’t do anything, but that we prioritized what didn’t need priority—often at our expense.
Last week, in the middle of all the swirling activity of my life, I sat down to journal at about 1 pm, which is my regular journaling appointment. I love this time of day, but it can quickly become another work brainstorming session. But luckily, God is God, and I read this parable. As I read, it was as if I heard Jesus say to me, “Drew, where have you been? What have you been doing that is so important?” In that moment, I realized that if I were in the parable, I would be among the fools—the ones who didn’t make appropriate space for what was necessary—the ones left out while the party went on.
Regret. I have many. Most of them are those small moments of potential growth or relational connection, when I turned instead to something that was, in a way, important, but in the grand scheme of things, not.
In the book Unwinding Anxiety, Judson Brewer suggests an action plan when it feels like there is too much to do or anxiety becomes the driving force: “Don’t just do something, sit there!”
Today, you may get swept into the frenzy that is your life, or you may have a relatively calm life, and you’re quick to fill it with anything. But don’t just do something. Sit there. Consider what is truly critical today. How can those regrets from yesterday better shape today? How might you be among the wise who make it into the party with Jesus?
Get specific: How? When? Where? What?