The Life Raft of Remembrance

In the muck and mire of the present, I can be woefully negligent in remembering the rescues, good gifts, and providences of the past. 

When so much remains unfixed and in process, when heart change {especially my own} is slow, as new issues and dilemmas present themselves in the midst of an already full plate, I don't always feel buoyed by hope. 

But I've felt a gentle nudge over the last few days to recall and remember. I'm increasingly convinced that remembrance is one of God's graces to his children during days of discouragement and fretfulness.

When I'm frustrated because my heart feels stuck, He shows me where I used to be. 

As I grapple with the things of this world and wish I never struggled with something as petty as desiring new furniture, He shows me how far I've come.

When the work of relationship is intense and shows no sign of letting up and I want to crawl under the covers, He reminds me of how dark the days used to be and how there is so much light and hope spreading across the future. 

Today, with all of its issues and concerns, is not five years ago... 

I'm not the same. 

Loved ones are not the same. 

God is more real and the world is less enticing. 

Security and identity come increasingly from Christ and less from people. 

I've been broken but not crushed, knocked down but not defeated. 

Provision has come in wild and unexpected ways, undeserved gifts that showed up in the nick of time to lift a downcast soul or pay the bills or provide a desperately needed date night. 

As a child, I remembering listening in self-righteous disbelief to Bible stories about the Israelites and their chronic forgetfulness. God parted the Red Sea for them and dropped food from the sky every day, but they had the nerve to complain and revolt and doubt. How could they ever disregard his faithfulness? 

And years later I realized that they are really me, that the human heart has spiritual amnesia and remembrance isn't a polite thing we do around the table at Thanksgiving. No. The remembrance that saves me is the on-your-knees, white-knuckled, fighting-for-hope kind. It's usually amid tears and frustration and desperate petition. Which is as it should be. 

He reminded me of that this morning: 

Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God's peace which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. {Philippians 4:6-7, emphasis mine}

In laying bare our needs, we simultaneously remember the ones He's already met. Practicing remembrance saves me. It's impossible to drown in discouragement and hopelessness when we remember how He's parted the sea time and again.

Remembrance is an exercise in trust, an invitation to hope, and a pathway to peace.  

I write to remind myself and to celebrate His goodness.