"What Have I Done?"

Given any day, there's a jet flyin' somewhere.
Ah, she bought a ticket, and she vanished in the sky.
And how was I to know she was leavin' in the mornin'?
I never heard her go; she never said goodbye.

Back in November, your congenial editor presented a message with the title, \"We Are Not Saved.\" The quotation comes from Jeremiah 8:20:

The harvest is past;
The summer is ended,
and we are not saved!\"

This lament obviously comes from those in anguish, and it is truly sad to hear it. The aspect of it that is so lamentable is that it need not have happened. God had warned His people. Jerusalem had been slipping away \"in a perpetual backsliding\" (Jer. 8:5). They actually preferred deceit and refused to return to the One who had loved them and given them their land. God says He listened to them, but they did not speak what was right (8:6a).

You're reachin' out your hand,
And she's not there beside ya
Oh, what can I say?
Lost her in the sun
What have I done?
Lost her in the sun,
Lost her in the sun.

No man repented of his wickedness,
Saying, \"What have I done?\" (Jer. 8:6b).

Both the Scriptures from Jeremiah 8 and the secular song, \"Lost Her in the Sun,\" arrive at the same point—but with an opposite emphasis. Consider first the song by John Stewart, who was a former member of the Kingston Trio (he took founder Dave Guard's place from 1961 to 1967, when the group disbanded). He wrote \"Daydream Believer\" which the Monkees took to number #1 for four weeks in 1967 and Anne Murray took to #12 in 1980. His biggest hit single was \"Gold,\" which hit #5 in 1979 (from the Bombs Away Dream Babies album). \"Lost Her in the Sun\" was from this same album.

The song describes from one viewpoint the dissolution of a relationship. The listener is not informed if the couple had an argument or if there was a more far-reaching problem that finally came to a head. The audience does not know what precipitated the breakup—only that it happened. The female half of the couple \"vanished in the sky.\" Clearly, the male who was left behind was not in favor of this separation. He casts no blame on the one who left, but instead, in his introspection, assumes he is at fault and cries out, \"What have I done?\" The listener does not know if he ever figures it out—only that he \"lost her in the sun.\"

The termination of most relationships is painful. When God promises to punish, there can be no excuse for failing to ask why. Yet Israel does not do so. They refused to repent or even ask, \"What have I done?\" Instead, \"Everyone turned to his own course as the horse rushes into battle\" (Jer. 8:6c). One can't find any introspection there.

Sometimes, in a relationship, the same question is asked from a different perspective—from one who does not understand what he did wrong—and therefore why he is being treated so harshly. David asked this question of Jonathan concerning his father Saul: \"What have I done? What is my iniquity, and what is my sin before your father, that he seeks my life?\" (1 Sam. 20:1). It was a fair question from one who had done nothing worthy of death. Later, he asks a similar question of Saul himself: \"Why does my Lord pursue his servant? For what have I done or what evil is in my hand?\" Saul relented.

Even God took this approach with His own nation in Micah 6:3. He required an answer to two questions: \"O my people, what have I done to you? And how have I wearied you? Testify against Me.\" They are followed by good things God had done for Israel. Sometimes, the answer to, \"What have I done?\" is, \"Nothing to warrant the type of behavior he has been receiving.\"

The Enormity of Sin

Usually, however, the question is asked (or should be asked) on the part of one who is guilty of some kind of wrongdoing. God asked the question of Eve in Genesis 3:13: \"What is this you have done?\" She quickly passes the blame onto the serpent, but a time would come when she might very well have asked herself the same question—perhaps on those occasions when she was giving birth. She might have questioned herself when she and her husband were forced to leave Eden.

But if at no other time in her life, when she came to understand her righteous son, Abel, had been killed by his brother, then, surely, in her sorrow, she felt the weight of her actions in allowing sin to enter the world, and said something like, \"What have I done?\" to herself. Actions beget reactions, and the consequences of bad choices can forever be with us. Even though we may be forgiven by God for sins and transgressions, we cannot change a chain of events we set in motion.

Consider hard-hearted Pharaoh who softened just a bit when the firstborn children of Egypt died in one night. That would have been a great moment to question himself and his actions, but he quickly repented of his decision to let Israel go, and his army chased after them. If he was still alive after his army drowned in the Red Sea, he might have, in fact, should have—said to himself, \"What have I done?\" He had brought death to nearly every family in Egypt.

Just prior to himself and his family being stoned to death, did Achan consider that taking the beautiful Babylonian garment, 200 shekels of silver, and a wedge of gold weighing 50 shekels was worth it? He confessed his sin, but he and his family were still stoned with stones as a result of his actions. Did he, for a fleeting second, ask, \"What have I done?\"

In a city of Benjamin (Gibeah) were perverted men who, although practicing homosexuals, abused sexually a woman all night; she died the next morning. All Israel gathered together to punish the offending city, but Benjamin refused to turn the guilty men over, choosing to fight their fellow tribes instead (Judges 20:12-14). The Benjamites were destroyed except for 600 men. Apparently, there were no homosexuals remaining, since the other tribes obtained wives for them. What a waste it was for thousands of people to die while upholding corruption (though they did not partake of it). If any of the leaders of Benjamin who made that decision were alive at the end of the conflict, they should have said, \"What have we done?\"

King Saul had such promise as a king, but he became jealous over David, and it warped his thinking for most of the rest of his reign. God refused to speak to him through prophets or through dreams (1 Sam. 28:13). He consulted a woman with a familiar spirit, but he heard no good news. All that he was promised was death by the next evening. In that last day, did he ever think: \"What have I done?\"

God gave Jeroboam the kingdom, but he feared that he might lose it; so, he set up two golden calves, appointed his own (non-Levite) priests, and made other worship changes. Even the loss of his son did not cause him to rethink his actions. Some can become so hard-hearted that they never ask themselves that all-important question.

It's unlikely that Queen Jezebel ever had such a thought enter her mind. She was painting her face and making smart remarks up to her bloody end. Haman quickly learned that he was in trouble for trying to exterminate the nation of Queen Esther. Although an evil man, he saw his fate clearly and begged for his life (in vain). He knew what he had done.

In the New Testament, the enemies of Jesus may not have known what they had done at the time, when they shouted, \"His blood be on us and our children\" (Matt. 27:25), but those who were still alive 40 years later should have understood when Jerusalem was destroyed.

Paul certainly knew that he had forgiveness of all his sins, but he also characterized himself as the chief of sinners (1 Tim. 1:12-15). He had not forgotten his sins as a blasphemer and persecutor. Surely, he questioned himself over and over again: \"What have I done?\" He had changed, but the results of his former actions persisted. Those whom he led to death were still dead. Those he caused to blaspheme were probably still ashamed of themselves. Of course, worrying about it and brooding over it would not help—except in one respect. Everyone should be careful that they are living right and their actions are not harmful to others. Paul probably never forgot his past entirely, but he forgot it in the sense of not being dominated by it in the present.

Ananias and Sapphira may not have had time to ask themselves about their error and its results, but Judas did. Some have suggested that he was just trying to spur Jesus into action to take arms against Rome and set up His earthly kingdom (which He never came to institute). If so, Judas certainly received a shock when his earthly king was crucified. What did he think of the last hours of his life, besides that he had betrayed innocent blood? Did he moan to himself, \"What have I done?\" Perhaps we will find out his precise motivation for what his betrayal and suicide on the Day of Judgment.

What About Christians?

Everyone who obeys the gospel comes to a point of reckoning. We understand that Jesus died on the cross and that it was for our sins. When we realize the enormous price that sin requires, we cannot help but be humbled. Probably, most of the sins we committed did not seem so bad—telling a few lies here, stealing a little something there. Where's the harm? Naturally, we try to minimize our own sins, although we might make a big deal out of it if another was guilty of the same thing.

And if there are bigger sins we have committed, well, we were justified in doing do, whether it involved slandering someone's good name, having an abortion, engaging in an \"affair,\" or taking God's name in vain. None of these things seem so bad when I am guilty of them—only when others are. This kind of thinking is unacceptable. If we realize that our sins put Jesus on the cross, thus causing Him great physical and spiritual suffering (probably beyond our comprehension), then what else can we say but, \"What have I done?\"

Our sins cannot be undone, but they can be repented of. And we should devote our best efforts to quit practicing all sins. We will not succeed 100% of the time (1 John 1:8-10), but we can think, behave, and act far better than we once did. We can love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength—and others as ourselves (Mark 12:30-31).

Is there such an attitude that implies \"no hope\"? There was in Jeremiah's day. The people refused to return or repent, or ask, \"What have I done?\" Remarkably,

\"Even the stork in the heavens knows her appointed times; and the turtledove, the swift, and the swallow observe the time of their coming. But My people do not know the judgment of the Lord\" (Jer. 8:7)

They could not figure out why the harvest was over, the summer was past, and they were not saved. They can't say they weren't warned. What had they done?