I love pithy sayings that rhyme.

"Viewing your past in a positive light, will make your future much more bright."

While somewhat annoying, their cheesy sound is music to my ears. Which reminds me of the song from the Sound of Music titled "My Favorite Things." The song does confuse me a bit, though. I don't know why a dog biting, a bee stinging or feeling sad is a favorite thing. Then again, maybe I m not quite recalling the song correctly. And in a way, (as if I didn't plan the transition), that is how we each view history.

Forget about the age-old adage that those who don't learn from history are bound to repeat it (we re way on our way to that end). Another more appropriate saying is that how and what we remember of our past will determine our future.

This may seem inane and hardly worthy of the paper it is printed on, but if it is true then we can with assuredness judge our future by determining how we view our past.

First we must realize that the past, or history as historians are apt to call it (they nixed being called pastorians for some odd reason), is a very subjective thing. Each of us views our personal and collective past with anything but objectivity.

History, as they (the people who make up these sayings) say, is in the eye of the beholder. The questions then begs to be asked, does our view of history determine our future actions, attitudes, and ultimate altitude? A scientist once remarked that "what one focuses on becomes one's vision and reality." Forgetting for a moment that this scientist was a nuclear scientist and had only fleeting encounters with other humans due to massive amounts of radiation, his comment should shake us to the core. Or at the very least make us feel sorry for the guy.

I've noticed from experience (the radiation did wear off) that how people view the past will taint, if not foretell their future. How does this happen? Well my findings (the first thought that popped into my brain) suggest that it has to do with time, atmospherical variables, and the half-life of Plutonian.

My findings, if true, have much to say. They say, and if you listen really close (and tend to hear things) you may hear them say, "Use the past as a spring board, not a shackle. As a launching pad, not a padded room. As fertile soil, not futile foils. Use the force, Luke, the force."

On the mandatory serious note (we all knew it would happen somewhere in this article), one of the saddest things that I have witnessed is the life whose past (consisting of abuse, neglect, rejection, and death of loved ones) causes what could have been a very bright future to become a miserable repetition.

It is easy for me, whose memories are full of flowers and fields, merry-go-rounds and VW vans to take my memories and use them to propel me to greatness or at the least super-mediocrity. Life, for me, has been good (and not just because my parents were Christian Beatniks), and the past holds few skeletons or demons. It isn't like that for those who have been abused, neglected, rejected or have lost loved ones tragically. For them the past is full of pain. It is as if "from he who has not, more will be taken."

If your life has been "an incredible ride" (60 Second Preview) and you have become complacent, and you know who you are, I offer this advice. Fond memories shouldn't serve as a jail either. Don't become like the fifth grader who can't spell "grow-up" because he is still basking in his second grade spelling bee championship. There is something about a journey in that it moves on.

Far from being a fatalistic vision of doomed repetition, good and bad, it is the hope that Christ brings that allows us to take responsibility for our past and our memories, and to be free from their hold. We are given the freedom to accept responsibility, to admit mistakes, apologize, and work through hurts and disappointments. It also allows us to let go of the hurt, forgive the trespasses, and concentrate on the good stuff. Even the most cynical of us must admit that there is plenty of good stuff in our past. Full of joy, peace, love and other favorite things. "Whiskers on kittens and warm woolen mittens." That is what life more abundantly is all about. And as we mature and have families of our own we are able to impart the gift we may have never had; memories that our children won't have to run from.

by Philip Pfanstiel
published Spring 2000
in Focus Magazine