My life is a story of God being with me.
I can point to time after time when He broke in on my darkness, when He rescued me from my own stupidity, when He brought His words to a rolling boil to melt my hardened heart.
I’ve brushed up against Glory through His Spirit, His Word, His people.
And His world. He has met me in stars and sunsets and music and fire and water and color and dark and dawn and thunder and lightning and silence.
My God—He has revealed Himself to me at every turn, in every season.
But after all of this—after all the ways He has marked my life with His love—I forget He’s here. It is the worst form of amnesia, to forget the One who created me, rescued me from sin and its damnation, made me infinitely rich in His love.
How can I be daughter of the King Most High, yet prone to live as a beggar’s child born into a generational cycle of poverty and despair?
You were unmindful of the Rock that bore you, and you forgot the God who gave you birth.
As someone else once confessed, I am often an atheist in practice. I’m prone to live as if there’s no God. Forgetfulness turns me faithless.
I question and cower and complain. I wring my hands in worry. I drink the cup of discouragement to its dregs instead of quenching my thirst in His cup that runs over with joy.
But He is not forgetful. He does not forget me.
Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.
God knows I am newborn-needy, and with greater tenderness than even a nursing mother, He tells me again and again in His Word to remember.
Colleen, I know you’re forgetful, so bring to mind all the ways I’ve provided for you.
Recall the greatness of Who I Am again and again and again till there’s a well-worn path in your brain—a neurological groove of gratitude and awe.
Is it strange that the cure for my amnesia is remembering? Like the cure for a couch potato is turning off the TV and exercising, it sounds simple but it screams against all that comes naturally to me.
Funny thing is, I can remember a lot of things without even trying: the expectations I haven’t lived up to, my never-ending list of to-do’s, that catchy new song. And I’d never dare to forget my morning cup of coffee.
But keep the God of the Universe at the forefront of my mind? Why is this so difficult?
The God who has always been with me—He is with me still, even in my amnesia. He smiles at me in my need and pours Grace over my lack. He gives me the desire and obedience to remember Him, to think on His goodness—because He knows it is my good.
So I hang Scriptures on the walls of my home, and I put verses to music so they get stuck on repeat in my head, and I open my mouth to tell the people around me how good God is to me (and I sidle up to those who talk about His goodness back to me). I carve out time alone with my Savior so He can reshape my thoughts and desires. I journal. I pour out my heart, I reflect, I answer questions like these:
What am I grateful for today?
How have I seen God’s kindness expressed to me through another person?
What does the cross tell me about God’s relentless love for me?
Here, in the sweet quiet of my Father’s presence, reflecting on His past and continual goodness to me, I remember who He is and who I am in Him. My distracted, anxious thoughts (of Self and Circumstances and Others) are dwarfed by my magnified thoughts of Him.
As St. Augustine said, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” Is my heart trying to find a resting place apart from Christ?
We can be busy about a lot of good things, but if they’re keeping us from remembering The Best Thing, our hearts remain restless.
Dear One, is your heart at rest? Or has rest been eluding you as of late (as it has been me)? Tonight let’s ask God to help us remember all that we have in Him.
My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,
and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,
when I remember you upon my bed,
and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
for you have been my help,
and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy. Psalm 63:5-7
Other Scriptures referenced: Deuteronomy 32:18; Isaiah 49:15, 54:5; Psalm 23:5, 16:2