When "What If" Isn't the Point

Sometimes my thoughts wander and my desire to be more like Christ makes me wonder...

What if I could choose to do it all differently? (And by it I mean all the bad "its" of my past.)

What if I could be selfless every time I was selfish?

What if I could obey each occasion I chose my own way?

What if I could live in the truth instead of hiding in the lie?

Wouldn't I be a better mom, a better friend, a better difference-maker if I had never made a mistake?

What if I could go back and give grace each time I passed judgement?

What if I could take back every foolish decision, willful sin, and heartbreaking choice?

Wouldn't I be a better wife, a better witness, if I my life was marked only by wisdom? Only by love?

What if I could go back and make right every wrong done by me, every wrong done to me?

What if I could undo the hurt and redo the gift?

Wouldn't I be a better me if I had always walked in the light of Christ, never lurked in the darkness of the world?

But as my thoughts wind through this what-if maze I'm reminded of the biggest problem with my what-if game: Being better isn't the point.

If I could go back and always see better, choose better, be better by myself then I wouldn't need the best of God.

Not only would a walk as perfect as Christ's negate my very need for Him, but if I had always been the "better me" then, it would nullify the best He's redeemed in me now.

Then while I'm pondering the depths of my transformation, sanctification, and purification, I remember something much simpler: a poem. A whimsical poem I wrote for a college creative writing class about the What If game that kids often play.

What If?

Do you ever wonder,

what if…?

What if I had wheels for feet

instead of squishy toes?

I would roll and roll

and wheel around wherever I should go.

What if I had slinkies for legs

instead of knobby knees?

I would boing and boing

and spring about wherever I should please.

What if I had wings for arms

instead of pointy elbows?

I would flap and flap

and whirl about wherever the wind blows.

What if I had a harmonica for lips

instead of a skinny smacker?

I would buzz and buzz

and play aloud and what I said wouldn’t matter.

What if I had a star for a nose

instead of a crooked arch?

I would twinkle and twinkle

and glow around wherever I should march.

What if a wish could change my face,

change everything I see?

What if one more what-if wish

could change every part of me?

What if I had spotlights for eyes

instead of a dirty brown splotch?

I would shine and shine

and flash upon whatever I should watch.

What if I had a motor for brains

instead of a human mind?

I would rumble and rumble

and sputter about wherever my thoughts should wind.

What if I had all these specialty parts

instead of what I actually see?

When I looked and looked

and gazed in the mirror I wouldn’t see special me.

Maybe it's the innocence of a children's poem that my heart needs to stop me in my tracks of this treacherous what-if game.

Maybe the answer to all my grownup what-ifs is the same one I'll give my little boys when they start spouting off their own silly questions.

Because I know...

What if I had a more beautiful past
instead of the bruised up one I see?
When I looked and looked
and gazed int he mirror I wouldn't see special me.

I am who I am because of the road I have traveled. The one marked with my mistakes, yes. But deeper are the prints of God's faithfulness. The prints that point to Him.

Yes, that is the point.

So instead of the What-Ifs I will choose the Grace-Thanks, being thankful to be special me.