Remember

Remember

It was there at Gilgal that Joshua piled up the twelve stones taken from the Jordan River. Then Joshua said to the Israelites, “In the future your children will ask, ‘What do these stones mean?’ Then you can tell them, ‘This is where the Israelites crossed the Jordan on dry ground.’”

Joshua 4:20-22

For as long as I can remember, I have collected memories. I have my second grade report card, my junior high basketball schedule, my megaphone necklace from my cheerleading years, and the monogrammed napkin from my wedding. I collect trinkets in shoeboxes, dresser drawers, and memory jars. In the 1970s and ’80s of my childhood, having photographs required money for film and developing. Photos were only for special occasions, but trinkets could be slipped into one’s pocket and saved.

I used to think that one of the most unfortunate parts of the Amish lifestyle was the lack of photos. Don’t they wish they could remember what their children looked like as babies? Wouldn’t a wedding photo be something nice to tuck away? Of course, even though we can appreciate photos, who hasn’t looked at one and first noticed the ten extra pounds, the bad haircut, or the dated outfit? Photos move our focus to what we see, whereas mementos turn our attention to the moment, the experiences, and how we felt.

Has the focus of our memories of God’s work in our lives changed in the same way? We ask God to give us faith for the future. We want to grow in our knowledge of Him, but maybe we’re missing the point. “Sometimes you don’t need to learn to trust God,” says Pastor Steven Furtick. “You just need to remember.”

Have you, like Joshua, set up stones of remembrance in your walk with God? Think back to transforming moments. Then find a journal to write down your remembrances of God’s goodness in your life. If you have mementos, collect them in a jar. Photographs are great, but the memories are what count. As you remember God’s work, you’ll be amazed by how much is already captured in your heart!

Dear heavenly Father, thank You for all You’ve done in my life. Forgive me for forgetting all the ways You’ve blessed me. Remembering reminds me to trust You more.