This year, I decided to do something that I have never done before: read through the Bible in a year. I have read through the whole Bible, but never in a single year and never following a plan. I’ve always preferred to just read through in sections, depending on what I felt led to read for that day. But, this year I decided to challenge myself. And you know what? I have been so amazed at the things I am learning! Blending the Old and New Testament readings together every day has given me a new perspective and helped me to make connections and discoveries that I have never seen before. It’s like a daily treasure hunt. I never know exactly what I’m going to discover, but I know that it will be something fresh and exciting!
One of the things that has stood out to me since I started reading through the Bible this year is the number of times that God’s people stopped to remember, especially in the Old Testament Scriptures. There were even times set aside for remembrance – to remember God’s laws, to remember the ways that He delivered them from their enemies, or showed His power and might, to remember the failings of their ancestors – whatever the case, they took time to remember regularly. Even reading through the Psalms, I’ve been amazed at the number of times the authors reference what God did in the past for His people.
In this new year of pursuit– running after God with all that I have, fervently, audaciously, boldly – I’ve suddenly found myself remembering. Remembering moments where God has moved in my life. Times He showed up and undeniably declared Himself. Times that I’d forgotten. And I have started to wonder if remembering might be an important discipline that the Church has not practiced enough.
Now, I am not saying that we need to get so focused on or bogged down in the past that we aren’t living truly present, or that we should get trapped in discontentment because we can’t move beyond “the good old days”. But I think that taking regular moments to remember what God has brought us out of or what He has done for us before can be incredibly powerful to spur us on in where God has placed us today. Sometimes, in order to move forward, to actively pursue what God has for us ahead, we need to be reminded of where we’ve come from. To appreciate the beginning of our journey. Sometimes we need to remember those early moments of faith and surrender to Jesus or the miracles and provision that He has performed in our lives to get us to where we are today. That’s the thought that brought back a very special memory for me recently. Remembering where it all started.
It was only 2 weeks after my 8th birthday, but I can still remember it like it was yesterday. We’d gone to a church in the city to attend a drama production that a family friend was playing in. The drama challenged the audience to take a good look at where they wanted to spend eternity by presenting different scenarios where people reach the end of life and come face to face with this reality. Some people might say that it was fear based – and for some it might be considered such – but I have never seen it that way. For me it was always seen as a real-life wake up call. It might sound a little intense for a child to attend – and don’t get me wrong, the content was definitely that – but I was raised in church and nothing that was presented that night was new. What was new, was the feeling I had growing in my heart as the evening progressed.
I asked Jesus to come into my life when I was only 3 years old, praying with my mom after family devotions one night. That may seem young, but I believe that children have an innate understanding of deeper things than we give them credit for. Having prayed with each of my 4 boys around that same age as they have made decisions to follow Jesus and seeing the joy that transformed each of their faces, you will never convince me that they didn’t have a real encounter with Jesus even if they were young. But that’s not to say that their understanding of this experience with Jesus cannot take on a deeper meaning as they get older.
That’s what I am convinced happened for me that night. As the drama came to a close, the air in the sanctuary felt heavy to me, thick and weighty with the Presence of an Almighty God. I was suddenly hit with an overwhelming revelation of what it would mean to be cast out of that Presence for eternity. That’s when the pastor of the church gave an invitation, calling all those wanting to respond to Jesus to meet him at the altar.
I wasn’t making this decision for anyone else, I was making it for me and nothing was going to stop me.
I can remember a fire lit in my stomach at his words that spread through my body, becoming a powerful magnetic pull to the front of the church. I had experienced the Presence of God many times before and while I knew that I had asked Jesus into my life when I was little – even though I couldn’t remember the exact that had taken place – somehow this moment felt bigger. More tangible. More conscious. A moment that required action. It wasn’t a fear of hell or the devil (who had been portrayed very well by the actor that night) that prompted my decision; it was a sudden deep and profound terror of being separated from the Presence of God forever.
In that moment it became abundantly clear to me what being separated from Christ really meant and I knew that I wanted to take a step in that knowledge, to make a public confession that I was going to follow Jesus for all of my days. I felt insatiably hungry to know God, to be in His Presence, and I wanted to draw an intentional “line in the sand” that I could look back on for myself. I turned to my mom and told her that I wanted to go to the front and asked her to come with me, though I had already decided that I was going to go whether she came with me or not. I wasn’t making this decision for anyone else, I was making it for me and nothing was going to stop me. Those steps down the aisle to the front of the church are the most important ones I would ever take.
I remember crowding in at the altar with others as the pastor led us in a prayer to surrender our lives to Christ. I can remember the wave of significance that washed over me as I repeated the words after him. After, they asked all those who had made decisions for Christ to head to another room where there was a ministry team waiting to pray with us, give us a Bible, and answer any questions we had. I was the youngest person to enter that side room by at least a decade and I remember the lady who came to speak with me asked A LOT of questions. I remember thinking that she didn’t seem sure I understood what I had done, though I couldn’t have articulated what was going on in my heart if I had wanted to, but after answering her questions, she seemed convinced. I didn’t care if anyone believed me or not, I knew I’d had an encounter with God and would never be the same again.
Sometimes I think God gives us these amazing moments, these encounters with Him, just so that we have reference points to look back on – places that we can see His power and faithfulness clearly on display. Moments that we can circle back to for encouragement when our “today” seems too bleak to promise a “tomorrow”. I have had opportunity to look back on that night many times over the years and I am forever grateful to the Lord that He chose to reveal Himself to me in the unforgettable way that He did.
I still have the New Testament that they gave me that night. I’ve held tight to it through some of the most terrifying moments of my life, drawing comfort and strength from its pages when it felt the ground was eroding from beneath my feet. It’s been a tangible reminder that I’ve clung to, reminding me that the God Who showed up in such a powerful way to meet with an 8 year old girl at a drama presentation would show up again to carry me through whatever I was facing.
When you have been a follower of Christ for a while, when you’ve grown up in church and surrounded with the teaching of the Word, I think it can be easy to take everything for granted after a while. We can forget where we came from. What Jesus did in our lives at the very beginning. It’s been years since I’ve thought about that night almost 4 decades ago, but in the reminiscing, it all came back and was so real again. So powerful. Remembering has only served to stoke the fire in me to go even harder after God this year.
Remembering is a discipline. Sometimes it’s a muscle that we need to exercise and something that I think we would do well to practice regularly. Not so we can live in the past or fixate on what was, but so we can recount the goodness of God. So we can look back on His faithfulness and wonder at all the ways that He has been working in our lives. Like the children of Israel, perhaps we need to set aside regular times to remember. To remember and be strengthened and encouraged to continue our race, being reminded that the God that brought us through the storms of the past, the One who has walked with us through fire and water and helped us overcome whatever the enemy has sent to destroy us on this journey – He can do it again.
When is the last time you stopped to remember? When is the last time that you took a moment to think back on what the Lord has done in your life or where He’s showed up? Perhaps it’s time to do that again. You might be surprised by the things that come to mind.
Until next time, friends…
Of Shattered Things 