The House of Regret

He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man. I perceived that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. God has done it, so that people fear before him. That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already has been; and God seeks what has been driven away. (Ecclesiastes 3:11-15 ESV). Sarah Winchester was rich. She had inherited twenty million dollars. Plus she had an additional income of one thousand dollars a day. That’s a lot of money any day, but it was immense in the late 1800s. Sarah was well known. She was the belle of New Haven, Connecticut. No social event was complete without her presence. No one hosted a party without inviting her. Sarah was powerful. Her name and money would open almost any door in America. Colleges wanted her donations. Politicians clamored for her support. Organizations sought her endorsement. Sarah was rich, well known, powerful, and miserable. Her only daughter had died at five weeks of age. Then her husband had passed away. She was left alone with her name, her money, her memories, and her regret. It was this regret that caused her to move west, to San Jose, California. Her yesterdays had imprisoned her todays, and she yearned for freedom. She bought an eight-room farmhouse plus one hundred sixty adjoining acres. She hired sixteen carpenters and put them to work. For the next thirty-eight years, craftsmen labored every day, twenty-four hours a day, to build a mansion. Observers were intrigued by the project. Sarah’s instructions were more than eccentric, they were eerie. The design had a macabre touch. Each window was to have thirteen panes, each wall thirteen panels, each closet thirteen hooks, and each chandelier thirteen globes. The floor plan was ghoulish. Corridors snaked randomly, some leading nowhere. One door opened to a blank wall, another to a fifty-foot drop. One set of stairs led to a ceiling that had no door. There were trap doors, secret passageways, and tunnels. This was no retirement home for Sarah’s future; it was a castle for her past. The making of this mysterious mansion only ended when Sarah died. The completed estate sprawled over six acres and had six kitchens, thirteen bathrooms, forty stairways, forty-seven fireplaces, fifty-two skylights, four hundred sixty-seven doors, ten thousand windows, one hundred sixty rooms, and a bell tower. Why did Sarah want such a castle? Didn’t she live alone? “Well, sort of,” those acquainted with her story might answer. “There were the visitors…” And the visitors came each night. Legend has it that every evening at midnight; a servant would pass through the secret labyrinth that led to the bell tower. He would ring the bell to summon the spirits. Sarah would then enter the “blue room,” a room reserved for her and her nocturnal guests. Together they would linger until 2:00 a.m., when the bell would be rung again. Sarah would return to her quarters; the ghosts would return to their graves. Who comprised this legion of phantoms? No one really knows. Some believe them to be Indians and soldiers killed on the U.S. frontier. Bullets from the most popular rifle in America, the Winchester, had killed them all. What had brought millions of dollars to Sarah Winchester had brought death to them. So she spent her remaining years in a castle of regret, providing a home for the dead. You can see this unusual place in San Jose, if you wish. You can tour its halls and see its remains. But to see what unresolved guilt can do to a human being, you don’t have to go to the Winchester mansion. Lives imprisoned by yesterday’s regret are all around us. Hearts haunted by failure live and work beside us. People plagued by pitfalls are just down the street, or just down the hall. Perhaps you are one of those lives today. There is, wrote the apostle Paul, a “worldly sorrow” that “brings death,” a guilt that kills, a sorrow that’s fatal, a venomous regret that’s deadly. If that’s the description of your life this morning, turn to the wisdom of Solomon and know that all things are beautiful in the hands of our eternal Father. He is the One who will make all things work together for our good as we love and follow Him. Lay your regret at His feet this morning. Take up His joy in a future secured by the work of grace in Jesus Christ.