Regrets and doubts

By Jeff Long

Eric Liddell was the Olympian from Scotland who declined to enter the 100-meter dash in the 1924 Games because a qualifying heat was scheduled on Sunday. Liddell later became a missionary to China and was killed there in 1944. On the day that the 100-meter dash was held in Paris, Liddell is sitting in the stands with a friend. It's a race he probably would have won had he chosen to compete. But his persistent belief that no work be done on the Christian Sabbath kept him sidelined. According to the 1981 film "Chariots of Fire," a friend leans over and asks Liddell if he had any regrets not being down on the track.

"Regrets, yes," Liddell replied. "But no doubts, though."

I've searched for that clarity of thought in my life -- to discern clearly the difference between a regret and a doubt. To me, they are often conflated, mixed and weaved together. The dictionary neatly separates them, however. Merriam-Webster defines regret as "to be very sorry." Doubt is given this meaning: "To lack confidence." If the those definitions are our guide, and if Eric Liddell's cinematic character is to be trusted, a person can be very sorry for the way something turned out, yet be fully confident that the actions that led to that moment were right and correct.

I'm listening to the life story of Ulysses S. Grant via audio CD. This was a man nagged by doubt -- e.g., he lacked confidence that he could remain sober. His repeated bouts of inebriation once led him to resign from the U.S. Army in 1854 as a young man, possibly to avoid a court martial, although the latter was never proven. Later, the Civil War brought out his greatness. Grant rejoined the Army and finished what Southerners sometimes call "the war of northern aggression" as commander of all Union forces. He accepted Lee's surrender at Appomattox, Virginia. His war reputation was such that he breezed to election as America's 18th president and easily won a second term. Grant's staff and his wife would hide alcohol from him for the rest of his life. They had doubts that the great stress of Grant's life and all the expectations laid on him might lead him back to the bottle. For the most part, Grant did not succumb to those demons. The Ohio-born president was also a man with regrets. Most notably, he did not reach the deathbed of his most trusted aide, both in war and in politics, 38-year old John Rollins, until it was too late. Grant arrived at Rollins' side an hour after he passed. The president understood that unforeseen train delays made him late but it didn't matter. He was awash with regret. Rollins' doctors told him the patient had asked for Grant many times. They mollified the dying patient, losing the battle against tuberculosis, that Grant would make it. In Grant's great regret, he commissioned an expensive bust of Rollins and financially supported his aide's three children for the rest of his life.

It has been my experience, in the pastoral office, to have arrived too late on occasion to see a dying parishioner. I was too late to see my father one last time. Dad had slipped into an irreversible coma a few hours before my arrival at the hospice center. I've had both regrets and doubts.

How about Jesus? Jesus showed up too late for his friend Lazarus. John chapter 11 tells the story of the Lord being so tardy that by the time he arrived in Lazarus' town of Bethany, his friend had been in the grave for days. The dead man's sister, Martha, accosts him for his lateness: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." (John 11:21) Jesus didn't try to explain his tardiness nor did he apologize. What seems clear is that He was confident in his actions. He was not sorry either. Anyone who questions this is referred back to his words to his disciples before making the trip to Bethany: "For your sake I was glad I was not there, so that you may believe." (John 11:15) Wow.

We know how the story turns out. Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead and in so doing, the Lord showed his mastery even over death. This event gets the reader ready for capital "R" resurrection later at Calvary.

Jesus, in his humanness, had neither regrets nor doubts. But remember, we're not Him. Regrets and doubts sting us but they can produce in us humility, which often leads to compassion, the highest of all human virtues. If we look at things a certain way, it all comes together, doesn't it?