The world is convulsing because of the wounds of the past.
Israel’s fight for security against Hamas and Iran is, to no small degree, the result of the horrific suffering of the Holocaust.
Western government support for Israel is tethered to the guilt of what was done to Europe’s Jews in the mid-twentieth century.
The Palestinian struggle quakes with the tremors of what was experienced after the Balfour Declaration in 1917 and the Nakba—”the catastrophe”—at the hands of Israel in 1948.
Russia’s violence against Ukraine has some roots in what is felt as the shameful dissolution of the Soviet Union.
Ukraine’s resilient resistance is fed by the memory of the forced famine of Holodomor and Russian attempts to eliminate their identity.
In Canada, the pain still experienced by indigenous communities is tied to governmental and religious policies and actions that, despite being apologized for, continue to reverberate.
And then there is your life and story.
Your people may have—like mine—escaped the persecutions and trouble of another place long before you were born. Very often, it is the remembrance of the past that shapes how we are raised to see the world, politics, others, and our identities and actions.
On a more personal note, the past wounds of a family illness, addiction, abuse, suicide, random tragedy, or act of unprovoked evil can linger for years and shape generations if left unresolved.
Truth is, this is every man’s story.
The past leaves a wake for all because our lives didn’t start from scratch or in a vacuum. Our lives begin in the seed beds of previous generations, and sometimes those gardens overflow with the manure and refuse left by others, which becomes our “normal.”
What is to be done?
The past leaves a wake for all because our lives didn’t start from scratch or in a vacuum. Our lives begin in the seed beds of previous generations, and sometimes those gardens overflow with the manure and refuse left by others, which becomes our “normal.”
Perhaps these signposts of hope can guide men, regardless of what the past has produced:
1. Remember Your Future
Scripture promises that God is sovereign, is building His Kingdom, and is a righteous Judge (Psalm 7:11). There will come a day when what has caused tears, sorrow, and mourning will be wiped away (Revelation 21:3-4).
In Christ and His Cross, God has both loved and judged the world. God’s good reign, reconciliation, and rule are available to you now, and will be fully realized on that day when King Jesus rides in to judge the nations (Matthew 25:31-32).
In Christ, the past will not be the future, and neither will your present reality.
2. Reconcile Your Past
The same Daniel, captured by Babylonian invaders and living bound to the whims of Persian powers, also repented for the sins of his own people. He confessed his people’s past actions, which had resulted in God’s judgment at the hands of the Babylonians and Persians (Daniel 9:1-19).
The same Peter who publicly denied Jesus as his Lord walked with Jesus on the beach and reiterated his love (John 21:15-19).
The same Saul who persecuted the followers of Jesus reconciled that truth with a life of new creation and new hope (1 Timothy 1:15).
The point here is both simple and complex:
Don’t deny the good, bad, or evil in your own past, but instead, reconcile with it.
God is a Redeemer, Jesus paid for all sin, in Christ there are new beginnings, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom (2 Corinthians 3:17).
Don’t deny the good, bad, or evil in your own past, but instead, reconcile with it.
The past does not need to be an anchor. In Christ, we are newly anchored (Hebrews 6:19) to the one who rose from the dead and is pulling us toward a new future and identity.
3. Receive Your Past
Moses, Peter, Paul, and numerous others throughout history have endured difficult, horrible pasts and memories as a “gift” that shaped character, calling, and competency for a life of impact and blessing.
God often meets us in the pain of the past. It takes courage to not wallow in our wounds or to pass on their pus to the next generation, but to respond to pain as God’s “megaphone to rouse a deaf world,” as C.S. Lewis wrote.
Miroslav Volf writes, “Personal healing happens not so much by remembering traumatic events and their accompanying emotions as by interpreting memories and inscribing them into a larger pattern of meaning.”
God’s transformation of a man’s past wounds begins with receiving them—in both lament and hope—as part of a good and righteous God’s purpose for our lives and our people.
To receive the past well will likely require forgiveness, community, a band of brothers, and even some professional help, but to reject and deny the impact of the past never does our futures any good.
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