So Jacob said to his household and to all who were with him, “Get rid of the foreign gods you have with you, and purify yourselves and change your clothes. Then come, let us go up to Bethel, where I will build an altar to God, who answered me in the day of my distress and who has been with me wherever I have gone.” Genesis 35:2-3
In many ways, I have a remarkable memory.
I can watch a movie once or twice and know all the key lines. I have friends from high school who call or text occasionally asking things like, “What was the name of that one girl who said that one thing that one time?” and I can usually tell them. I’ll hear a song on the radio and remember that my older sister danced to that song in her 5th grade dance recital. And I can recall most conversations with startling clarity (which is not always a good thing). Yes, I can remember many things.
But when it comes to the great things God has done in my life, I regularly suffer from spiritual amnesia.
I’m quick to tell others that He has done great things for me and that He has saved my life and saved me from myself. And He has. And I mean it. But in moments of crisis, my memory shuts down, I feel hopelessly alone in the world and wring my hands and wonder: What will I do? What’s going to happen? How do I fix this?
Oh, My child. Do you not remember?
The things He has done for me. The depths He has saved me from, the miracles He has performed in my days, the mountains He has moved off the path I have walked. Sometimes the only thing more impressive than my memory of trivial things is my ability to forget the faithfulness and mad love of my Creator King. Lord, forgive me.
Many dear people in my life encourage me to write more and good-naturedly pester me to get a new blog posts up. I recently received a letter from an Ocala friend telling me he still follows what I write and referenced a particular entry that remains his favorite. Sadly, I could barely remember it.
So I opened up my blog and began reading and reading and reading. Word after word, page after page, for the whole world to see: a written record of God’s love for me. Thoughts that once poured from a grateful heart I read with fresh eyes, like I had never seen them before. And I was humbled and convicted.
I was a part of an amazing group of women in Ocala for five years before I moved to Orlando. Starting as a group of three, it grew to as many as 22 at a time with over 30 people who have participated at some point during those five years. There are not words to describe my love for these women. Together we walked each other through engagements, marriages, divorces, pregnancies, miscarriages, infertility, births, unemployment, dream jobs, family issues, in-law issues, addiction issues, a seemingly endless list of life experiences. And surviving those things standing on scripture and leaning on each other has solidified those bonds for eternity.
As my time with them was drawing to a close, I began to reflect on all the things we had prayed for over the years. And when God would answer those prayers, we would get an excited text or email, but for some reason, they were quickly forgotten. But I had written down every last request. And it was time to give credit where credit was due.
Back in the day, when people wanted to remember a certain act or attribute of God, they would build an alter, dig a well, put up a monument of some kind so that they would never forget it. Also, it would be there for future generations to ask about, and it would be a testament to the greatness and goodness of God.
One of the last nights I met with them (not going to cry, not going to cry), I pulled out all my old workbooks. I got out a stack of index cards and several boxes of Caroline’s markers and crayons. Over the course of a couple hours, I read through every prayer request that had been shared over the past five years. We laughed, we cried, we celebrated. And anything that was answered (either the way we had wanted or not), was written on an index card and posted on an empty wall in my house. And there it stayed until the day I moved. I offered them as a gift to my girls, but they insisted that I take them. And I still have them.
One day, my stepdaughter came in and started shuffling through the strange random stack of colorfully written-on index cards and asked me what they were. Emotion flooded my heart and I explained our humble tribute. We went through each one (some of which I moved quickly past) and I told her what the prayer had been and how it was answered. And I remembered.
Just like reading through my old blog entries. The powerful ways God has touched my life, just in the last few years fills me with wonder and gratefulness.
I am more and more convinced that the reason my faith is so weak and my heart is so ungrateful is not because God isn’t doing anything, it’s simply because I don’t remember. Not that I CAN’T remember, but that I DON’T. Satan keeps me busy, distracted, worried and afraid, and I play right into his hand with embarrassing ease. Even when I am disciplined enough to spend time with my King, I often spend much of the time seeking direction and asking, asking, asking.
When was the last time I went on an ‘asking fast’ and spent time just thanking God for who He is and what He has done? Would my time with Him be better spent in letting Him know exactly what I need from Him? I doubt it; He already knows. No, my faith in my God and my relationship with Him would be strengthened much more in regular remembrance.
And God knew we would forget. The Bible is a collection of sacred blogs, guarded closely by the Holy Spirit so we would have no excuse but to remember.
Most of us aren’t big on keeping journals. As you can see, my blog posts are inconsistent at best. But oh, that my speech would be so full of God that even on days when I forget, those around me can remind me on what He has done for me. The faith, the joy, the courage, the power that I would be filled with daily, if only I would choose to remember.
My Jesus, how could I forget? The wounds You have healed. The obstacles You have overcome. The constant protection, provision, deliverance and redemption. And that’s just in MY tiny little life. The wonders we’ve seen through scripture and even our contemporaries around us. My Lord, strengthen my mind, train me to immediately access memories of Your unmatchable love and faithfulness when trials come. You are huge and wild and limitless. I praise You for who You are, and what You have done. May I strive to never forget to remember You.