In the Remembering

There is a danger in forgetting, I’ve learned firsthand.

I think that’s why the Old Testament is so filled with the act of remembering.

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I didn’t view it as arrogance, last year, when I announced to a friend over coffee that I was taking a break from reading through the whole Bible. Three years in a row I had opened those pages, but I was running out of time in the morning and something had to give.

The unraveling started out slow, miniscule. I was falling apart before I even realized.

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So when I picked up the year-long reading plan again this year, as I held brokenness all around me, it was like those words bound and held together in soft leather on my red kitchen desk began to bind and hold me. Every word seemed new, like an arrow that pierced, not to destroy but to repair.

Over and over I have witnessed, morning after morning, the repetition of the cycle: there is the return to God, the rebuilding of His people, the rejection of God’s commands, the repentance said in brokenness, the rescue of the people of God – and how the rescue is always received with some sort of remembrance.

 

The weight of our brokenness is overwhelming, how can we ever stand up underneath it?

Unless…

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Unless we remember that there is a Savior.

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I stood up during worship at church yesterday, but my spirit was wrestling under the weight of shame. There is an enemy of our souls who accuses night and day and I almost believed his lie that there was no hope for me.

I don’t even remember the song that those around me were singing, but I do remember the image that began to pulse louder within my heart:

Crouched low on the ground before Jesus, His feet bare and dirty, was a woman who offered her tears, her hair, her perfume, her reputation to the One Who is worthy of it all. 

She must have heard the voices whispering around her, the accusations of who she was and what she had done. And if she didn’t hear those voices, did her spirit inside of her remind her and call out those names?

Boldly, though, she knelt before Jesus.

Broken, she poured out all that she had.

And the One Who received her imperfect offering of love in turn gave her forgiveness and peace.

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I woke up this morning with the words of this song rolling around in my brain…my heart responding to the desperation behind the lyrics. I pulled open my bible and sat with Psalm 40 for a while.

I don’t have a jar of perfume to break open and spill out, but I have my words and a desire for a new song to sing.

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So I’ll remember and record, because I want to keep my eyes on Jesus.

I’ll keep remembering, because I never want to be so filled with pride again that I stop realizing I need Christ as desperately as I do.

 

18. Luke 7

19. Jesus is constant in transitions

20. our four

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21. Jesus knows our sorrow

22. He is our joy that strengthens

23. Psalm 69

24. Yellow Sparrow dreams

25. the gift of a camera

26. the reminder to remember

27. 1 Chronicles 5:20

28. the writings of Matthew Henry

29. unexpected lunch date

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30. Tony’s love

31. Zee practicing how to cross her eyes

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32. Toffifees

33. Sound of rain on roof

34. All those kittens wandering on the back grass

35. music filling these walls

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