I’ve lost my latest journal. I think I left it on a plane. And it saddens me because it is where I’ve recorded how Jesus has moved in my life so much over the past year. There were only a few blank pages left. Losing my document of it doesn’t take His work in me away. No matter how weak my memory tends to be. But remembering is important. It honors God and spurs me on.
What is it I want to remember from this past year?
- I want to remember the power of consecrating each day to Jesus. Not living by my power.
- I want to remember that the Holy Spirit has been growing me up. We’ve got a history of growth.
- I want to remember to hold tightly to God alone. Let go of all that isn’t meant to last.
- I want to remember to pray. With authority. Knowing it is my Jesus-died-for right.
- I want to remember that my eyes have grown sharper. The enemy’s disguises can be exposed.
- I want to remember that Jesus provides. A marriage that deepens, family that gives graciously, friendships that meet longings and beauty for the sheer joy of it.
Material loss can be a good thing. Loss of a journal, or photos, or a long-time home and its abundance of contents, can push me to take inventory of that which is not material: an inventory of lasting wealth.
Writing thoughts down is my way of taking inventory. Journalling helps me process my days. But the journal is not the prize. God’s faithful, continuing, work in me is the prize.
When I was a girl I was obsessed with Barbra Streisand. I knew every line of the songs in her movies. “The Way We Were” sent me into a dramatic performance in front of the oval mirror in my bedroom. “Mem’ries, light the corners of my mind, misty water-colored memories of the way we were. Scattered pictures, of the smiles we left behind, smiles we gave to one another,of the way we were. Can it be that it was all so simple then? Or has time re-written every line?…”
My 13 year-old self had no idea that there’s nothing simple about memories nor that time may or may not re-write each line. My 13 year-old self had no idea that I had a specific role to play in God’s story. My 13 year-old self didn’t understand that Jesus is the hero in the story of life. My 13 year-old self didn’t know the type of choices I’d need to make in response to the story.
Would I choose to be a striver? Would I choose to be complacent? Or would I choose to follow the Hero and allow Him to grow me into the woman He created me to be? Would I choose to remember how he has lovingly, patiently, faithfully led me into his Kingdom of Life? The abundant life?
I may not remember where I place my keys or my phone or my journal. But I remember Who’s I am and who I am because of Him. Lord, help me to keep remembering.