I am a proud hoarder.

A hoarder of artefacts. A hoarder of junk. A hoarder of memorabilia.

Endless birthday cards from the 23 birthdays I’ve celebrated. Stuffed toys I refuse to discard though I am allergic to dust. Freebies from university roadshows, from notebooks with blatant advertisements to multi-colored Post-Its too small for any practical use.

You name it, I have it.

But I am not just a hoarder in my home – I am also a hoarder in my head. A hoarder of life events. A hoarder of memories.
A hoarder of regrets.

The heart – my heart, your heart – is like a bedroom. It is a keeper of many things: The good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. The orderly and the chaotic. Regrets, grudges and shame.

Recently I met a fellow hoarder, found in the form of an Uber driver. He was a new Christian and he spoke with a fervour that yanked me out of my end-of-work sluggishness. We talked about how he’d come to know Christ. We discussed ways to make cell group more engaging. We joked about the misconceptions we used to have of Christianity.

Then the laughter died down.

“But you know, even though my life is much better with God now, I still have so many regrets. Bad decisions I made in the past. I still keep thinking about them,” he said. “Regrets have a hold on me.”

I could only muster an “mmm” in reply. Not because I didn’t agree, but because I am guilty of the very same thing.

Like my newfound Uber friend, there are episodes in my life I’m eager to erase from my memory. Some of these events date back to my childhood. Thinking about them still makes me cringe.

Others are fresher regrets – 2016-regrets. As you look back on the year past, there will be things you’re thankful for. There will be lessons you learnt. And for some of us, there will also be times we failed. Failures we beat ourselves up over.

I am not someone who can easily say: “I regret nothing in life because it made me who I am today.”

The Uber driver tried to lighten up the mood by cracking a joke, but my mind was already elsewhere. I thought about how the heart – my heart, your heart – is like a bedroom. It is a keeper of many things: The good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. The orderly and the chaotic.

And maybe the frequent guests knocking on the door of your room are Regrets, Grudges and Shame.

I have several regrets in 2016. I regret not spending enough time with a close one who passed away. I regret neglecting someone I was mentoring because I was too busy. I regret the way I handled my emotions in some relationships.
I don’t know about you, dear reader, but if you have regrets like me – regrets that make themselves a double bed in your heart, like the worst houseguest you can’t kick out – know that you are not alone.

You are surrounded by a huge cloud of witnesses. Brothers who have walked your path, sisters who testify of God’s faithfulness in the face of adversity, saints who are not just spectators but participants in the very same race.

The Apostle Paul, writing near the end of his life in Philippians 3:13-14, shared his strategy to dealing with regrets. One thing I do, wrote Paul, is to forget what is behind and strain toward what is ahead.

Forget what is behind. Don’t mull over what you could have done.

Strain toward what is ahead. It’s a stretch and a daily battle, but don’t give up.

Press on heavenward. Throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. Run with the race marked out for us in perseverance. Continue to fix your eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. (Hebrews 12:1)

This New Year, I’m going to get serious with my spring cleaning. I’m allowing God to make my bed.

Come 2017, I am going to choose what I keep in my bedroom. That pair of too-tight shorts I insist I can fit into some day? Adiós.

Stainless steel jewellery that wasn’t stainless after all and is so rusty I could never wear it anyway without a tetanus jab? Goodbye, at last.

That regret about a missed ministry opportunity 2 years ago that I’ve been hoarding in my heart and which I still feel wretched about? Out. You. Go.

This New Year, I’m going to get serious with my spring cleaning. I’m allowing God to make my bed. I need His help in smoothening out the crinkles. I want Him to clean that layer of dust off the windows, which have marred my view outside.

Out with the old. And in with the new.