Regret is a relentless warden.

For years I lived captive inside his prison. Steel bars made up of “What if” and “If only” penned me in, interfering with my ability to live on the outside. With both hands I tried to bend my history into something more pretty and pristine, without the pain, complications and reminders of where I’d been. But Regret wouldn’t let change a history already written.

At times I wonder how Paul—once Saul—managed to live without regret. In all his writings, I don’t here him pining away about what might’ve been. I don’t read his self-loathing for years of misdirected passion. How did he forgive himself of his murderous past? And how did he forgive so many others who tried to wreck his life? He had plenty of reasons for regret, plenty of opportunities to wish for a life and legacy that looked different than what it was.

But Paul didn’t see it that way all.

“I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ, and may be found in Him.” ~ Philippians 3:8-9a

Within Paul’s proclamation lies the secret to my release from Regret’s prison:

If the ugliness in my past and the failures of myself and others led me to the feet of Christ, then my legacy is a beautiful thing indeed. The history I longed to changed is the same history that brought me into a deep and enduring knowledge of the God who rescued me. In releasing the vision for what could’ve been I was finally able to see what God had done. And continues to do.

And in the letting go, God finally set me free.

Whether you’re a murderer of Christians, or a woman with a messy past, your regrets don’t have to own you.

Gain Christ, lose the rest. It really is that simple.

The longer I’m a mother and the older my children become, the more I realize how little control I actually have.

When they were toddlers, I made nearly every decision for them, including the rooms they played in, the toys they played with, the food they ate for dinner, and what time they went to bed. When elementary school came around, I still decided which friends they could play with, the activities they could participate in after school and how much television they could watch after they completed their homework. They had more freedom, choosing baseball over soccer, or Scooby Doo over Sponge Bob. But I held veto power at all times.

I now have a child that’s nearly 19. Crazy to think about, but it’s true. And although I have some control over what happens inside the walls of my home, there is little I can do when he walks out the front door. He’s an adult. And more than any time before now, I’m a mother on her knees.

As Paul wrote to his spiritual children in the Philippian church, I wonder if he felt the same kind of urgency I feel as I watch my own children pave their way through life. Just like me, Paul had taught them, encouraged them, and corrected them. He’d done everything he could to point them to the Savior and teach them how to live as God’s children. But when the time came for them to life out their faith on their own, Paul knew the first and best thing he could do for them was to pray.

“And this is my prayer…” ~ Philippians 1:9

So what did this man of God and spiritual father pray for? That they would:

* Abound in love and knowledge
* Show discernment in their decisions
* Remain pure and holy before God
* Bear righteous fruit based on their relationship with Christ
* Give glory to God through their lives

I have a single handwritten note next to Philippians 1 in my Bible, dated November 22, 2004:

“Pray this for Tyler, Ryan, Jacob and Troy.”

My three boys and husband. I’d forgotten. Now is the perfect time to remember.

Whether you’re a parent, a spouse or not, God has brought people into your life who need someone committed enough to pray this kind of prayer. It’s one thing to have great intentions, but it’s another thing to actually do it. This week I’m writing Philippians 1:9-11 on an index card and slipping it into my back pocket every morning. I’m committing to praying this verse for those I love for the next seven days.

Will you join me?