Impossible to forget

Our brains are designed in such an incredible way, the deep grooves throughout our grey matter are filled with memory receptors infiltrated within each crevice. Capturing memories and holding them – making it physically impossible to forget some things. Some brain experts consider that it is possible for a healthy brain to hold onto the earliest memories, from toddler hood, and retain them for a lifetime.

Impossible to forget.

Sometimes I feel like a few of my memory crevices are having a construction traffic jam, selectively remembering important things while not even trying to retain others. Numbers are losing out right now. I find that the busier I am, the more I rely upon the written reminders – the written memory- to stay on top of things, because frequently they are tied to numbers. My mind feels crammed with numbers, and keeping them straight is an organizational task which can be daunting if not attended to daily. This is why my Palm Pilot has been indispensable to me – my external brain!

Impossible to forget.

Everyone forgets things – the music stand that wasn’t easily seen so it was left behind, the meeting that was scheduled via cell phone while driving in congested traffic, the library book that fell behind a table and remained for three months collecting fines daily but “outta sight, outta mind”. A prescription pick up, a doctor’s appointment, a colleague’s name – forgetting has happened to us all. And for most things, it’s been easily attended with apology or compensation or accepting the consequences and provide the assurance that it won’t happen again.

Impossible to forget.

And yet, some circumstances are so charged with emotion and importance that they will never leave our minds, never be forgotten or eliminated in the daily routine of grocery lists and informal meetings and birthday parties and phone numbers. Branded upon our minds, with its grey matter memory receptors, they are always there. It’s a blessing (a special friendship and shared interest, a covenant relationship, a first kiss, an inspiration, a fantastic poem, a special lesson of life, the birth of a child) and it can be a curse (words that can never be taken back, the loss of a child, mistakes that are unalterable, the suicide of a loved one, a raised hand in anger, a traffic accident with a tragic ending, gunfire).

The life of Joseph recorded in Genesis exposes a man who encountered love and jealousy, success and tragedy, acceptance and rejection, integrity and deception throughout his lifetime. Abandoned by his brothers. Thought to be dead by his parents. Abused as a slave. Imprisoned unjustly. Forgotten within the halls of justice. Threatened with death threats. As a man of faith he found himself alone, relying upon himself and God to make it through one demanding obstacle after another.

It could seem understandable to get embittered with life, to learn the lessons that were thrown at him and decide to never trust again, never love again, to never forget, never reach out again – a natural reaction of protection, self-preservation. But within the Scriptures we see this incredible window exposing Joseph’s relationship with God and how he recognized God’s activity and presence.

Genesis 41:50-52, “Before the years of famine came, two sons were born to Joseph by Asenath daughter of Potiphera, priest of On. Joseph named his first born Manasseh (forget) and said, ‘It is because God has made me forget all my trouble and my father’s household.’ The second son was name Ephraim (double prosperity) and said, ‘It is because God has made me fruitful in the land of my suffering.”

The root of the verb translated here, to forget, is not based on elimination as wiping the memory from the mind as a teacher wipes the chalk from a chalkboard. This verb is not about removing the memory. It is not like brain washing or hypnotism. No, it is more aligned with a different aspect of memory. “To remove the pain, the sting, the injury, the hurt” – this is more in line with the verb, this Manasseh. Joseph uses this verb in naming his child…”God has removed the pain of my memory, God has removed the sting from my memories. I still remember but the pain is not oppressive.”

When reflecting on his life, Joseph praises God for removing the injury, pain and sting from the memories he may never be able to forget. Joseph transmits his pain and injury and gives them to God to handle and manage. He recognizes that he would be bitter and unable to forgive without the anointed embalming of God’s touch upon those memories.

Its an important lesson, a crucial lesson for me, that God promises to walk down the corridors of my mind and examine the still life portraits hanging on the wall, examine the details with me and help me give birth to a Manasseh, a living example of His divine ability to remove the injury and sting of the memories which can never be forgotten. We are built to remember, but God remains with us with the deep promise that His divine love can help remove the oppressive impact these memories can carry, these memories that we cannot seem to erase.

You do not need to be imprisoned by your tragic memories, unable to move ahead or reach out because of what you cannot remove from your mind. God is right there with you, holding you close, taking every breath with you. He is there providing you with the strength of heart to know He can help you give birth to a Manasseh, a chance to let His divine love remove the sting of the memories which seem like a prison. Reach out to Him, He’s reaching out to you full of understanding, compassion and strength.

Stepping Into Traffic

When I was in 6th grade we were given the opportunity to have "real jobs" because of our age and maturity. We were given the chance to be crossing guards at the 8 intersections around the school! Coolness! Arriving at school 30 minutes early, out of class 15 minutes early, we felt like big stuff with our orange belts slashed across the left shoulder and a proud long broomstick handle flag to stop all threatening traffic. We will make sure all traffic stops for us!

So we would all walk to our assigned corner and stand there, waiting for walkers to come and "need our help" to get across the street. We weren't allowed to leave the corner, just wave our long-handled flag out to catch drivers attention so they would stop appropriately. It didn't take long for the coolness factor to wear off - we really weren't doing anything in the matter of safety - we weren't the reason why people would stop. No one would stop for our tiny flag fluttering from the distance of the corner.

No the real power was held by the crossing guards who were adults, at the extra busy corners, who would with all the boldness and strength and confidence in the world would step out into traffic, bringing all moving vehicles to a halt until all the lengthy parade of skipping, bookbag wearing learners would march past them.

Stepping into traffic.

With my morning commute being so brief, a slight 1.5 miles from home to corps, the drive is rarely eventful. I never hear a song all the way through so I don't listen to the radio - I simply observe as much as I can. I rarely even need the gas pedal, letting the engine idle coast me to work. Swerve left, then quickly right, successfully accomplishing the pot-hole slalom which is directly before the only light on the trip. Things are going well - it's going to be a pretty day, a busy day, a blessed day..

But I am abruptly startled into action, needing the brakes when directly before the corps, there is a 14 month old baby in the devil strip, dangling his toes over the curb, sucking his thumb in a "boy am I sleepy" position. He's only wearing a diaper, no socks or shoes and it is only 57 degrees - he's got to be freezing! I am not the only vehicle on the road - this is going to be dangerous in a heartbeat. I coast into my driveway and jump out as smoothly as I can. As I am walking near him, I am searching for his mother - in my lobby (no), in my parking lot (no) in the Rite Aid parking lot (no) in the front, side or back yard (no) on the porch (no). As I step slowly closer, he begins to move sideways and closer to traffic. This is getting bad fast, as drivers are simply shaking their heads as they speed past and neighbors are observing the "a.m. entertainment" not wanting to get involved. There is only one thing to do.

Step into traffic.

Cars stop and wait, as I am able to step close enough to reach him, pick him up and step to the pedestrian safety of the sidewalk. Inside I am furiously seething, "I could be a stranger with the worst of intentions and NO ONE is here to stop me from leaving, never seeing this little one ever again." But I am not a stranger to him, and I know which apartment he lives in. As I walk up to his home, his large espresso colored eyes let me know he's barely awake. I don't know how long he's been outside, but he is so cold it takes my breath away.

Stepping into traffic.

This is not a "dump and dash" excursion to this house, I have to be very serious about everything that has happened. And under control. I have to communicate and listen. I may have a professional obligation, I also must have a courageous obligation. I need to be willing to step into the traffic of this situation with boldness and confidence, willing to take the risk.

Risking her fury or criticism, I must wake his mother up. Risking her startled list of excuses, I have to recap the Jim Beam and put it above the refrigerator, box up the cigarettes and put them in the cleaning closet "These are deadly to your 3 babies. Careless sips because they are thirsty or eating just one cigarette - it can kill them!" Risking her anger bounced to her other children, I have to explain where her son was instead of being "watched" by his 3yr old brother. Risking her never accepting our corps invitation to join us for worship or children's programs, I need to express to her that two other agency directors in our town who drove by this circumstance, one of them being connected to Children's Services.

Step into the dangerous traffic that surrounds you, willing to risk your time, your schedule, your plans, your leisure activity. Don't sweep someone's careless threat of suicide away - step into the traffic and invest yourself in the name of Christ Jesus to express hope, and action and concern. Step into the traffic of grief and offer more than a dry handkerchief - embrace and share compassion. Invest yourself with your teenagers, with the message of purity, modesty and language. With the stop sign in your hand and the confidence of God's righteousness, address the gossip and lies that are attempted to be spread in your presence.

In the name of God, make your presence known.

Step into the traffic with a prayer and boldness. God is right there with you.

Isaiah 41:10 "So do not fear, for I AM with you, says the LORD; do not be dismayed, for I AM your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with My righteous right hand." NIV

A Watchful Watchtower

With my devotions this morning, I find myself with my Bible in the Old Testament laughing out loud at the images in my mind t he Scripture are bringing, as if the Bible is mocking me and who I need to be right now.

Ezekiel and the watchman. A spiritual dedication to sharing and caring the news of God’s love and expectations. As the watchman, I always saw Ezekiel sequestered in a high place, uninterrupted, hearing from God and reading God’s word with relish and time. He had serious alone time with God.

I seriously do not.

I feel as if all parts of life crowd in on my day to take more chunks of my time, my devotional time. I do not have a high and silent place to languish for hours wrapped in the truths and teachings of God. I’ve got young hands cramming notes under my door with scrawled notes and requests, childhood contracts of expectations or expression. It feels like minutes sometimes with God, brief, fleeting. In the same reality, I cannot have a God-honoring day without spending time with Him. Some people you don’t want to meet until they’ve had their coffee…you really don’t want to see me unless I’ve been with Jesus. I am not as loving or understanding of a wife, as flexible and forgiving as a mother, as creative or vision-filled leader without my quiet time. Days that do not start with the careful hemming attention from Jesus always come unraveled in a tirade of frustration, loss of patience or quick discouragement. Sure I can get to end of 24 hours without losing it, but usually it could be a cynical, mouthy, careless conversation girl you meet. Frequently, my time with God has to come in the pre-dawn hours, and even then, it is filled with prayers for these young and growing hearts.

I am seeing myself perched high in this watchtower Like Elijah, yet I am not alone, observing all these loved ones dangling from the lofty support system. I am not in a place in my life that I can abandon them all to care for themselves while I am behind closed doors for the sake of being close to God. Hockey sticks in hand. First aid kit for the most recent boo-boo. Library books to be found. Teenage moodiness. Needing new shoes. Signed permission slips. “Moooooom, he said this…” Questions about God. Golf team matches. Piano lessons. Scholarship paperwork. Homework.

My devotional time can just as easily evolve into sermon preparation, or for research in an exegetical paper. Neither of these are the deep well of connection with God.

My time with God is frequently devotion in action, praying together as a blessing before catching school bus. Asking forgiveness when I am hurtful or wrong. Stopping and watching a rainbow together. Meeting new friends and teachers.

At the beginning of the day I fill a bowl with water and keep it at the sink counter, reminding me of the fullness God has for my day. I don’t empty it until the end of the day, thanking God for his power and presence in everything I needed to do. My daily tasks, home and office, can easily take over and dictate my time. I cannot allow them to. I have to start my day hand in hand with Jesus, living out the hymn, “He walks with me and He talks with me.”

So with this watchtower in mind, I make a quick trip up with a careful eye given all around these dangling loved ones attached to this watchtower with me.

I pray God blesses you today, quietly yet physically answering your prayers, reaffirming your faith, addressing your need and preparing you for the gift He has for you.