God Remembers

Disappointment

Reflecting on 2022. Feeling disappointed. I’d had such high hopes twelve months ago. Hopes for healing.

The three years from 2019 through 2021 had been tough. In addition to the trials and tribulations that we’d all experienced—the fears and disruptions in everyday life from the COVID pandemic, the increased violence, the devastating fires and natural disasters, the bitter political atmosphere—I’d been through painful losses and heartbreaking conflicts in my extended family and a new health issue that wore me down for many months before going away completely. On a lesser level, but still somewhat overwhelming at the time, I’d had an infestation of seemingly indestructible weeds in my backyard.

I described in an earlier post how, as my stress level increases, it takes a progressive toll. First physically (even lower energy than usual), then mentally (more brain fog), then emotionally (increased anxiety, plus negative and obsessive thinking). Due to the difficulties of the previous three years, I’d entered 2022 with discouragingly low reserves in these areas.

A New Year’s resolution

My good and gracious God had been with me through it all, supporting me, growing me spiritually, and using my pain to minister to others, even while I stumbled along. But I was ready for a change. So as 2022 began, I’d resolved to make it a year of self-care. I vowed to watch my time and energy more carefully, to say no to activities and commitments that would drain me too much (no matter how fun and attractive they might be), to fulfill my need for down-time (no matter how boring that might be).

I’ve reached an age where it would be reasonable for me to expect my health to continue declining, rather than improving. Many of my friends are experiencing that for the first time in their lives. Some of the doctors I’ve seen reinforce it. When I’m at my worst, that’s one of the dark places where my fears take me—believing that it’s all downhill from here.

However, I had a precedent for thinking that I could still return to my pre-2019 energy level. Back in 2017, I’d been through two of weeks of unusually intense daily stresses. It had taken three months to recover from those two weeks. But I did recover.

So at the beginning of 2022, I was pretty sure that if I just stuck to my boundaries as much as possible, I’d bounce back at some point. I knew it would take longer than it had in 2017, but I was hoping it would only be six months or so.

Now 2023 is almost here, and I’m still waiting.

I’m doing better than one year ago. I can look back on the brokenness I was feeling at that time and praise God that I’ve experienced so much improvement.

I still have a long way to go, though. At my current rate of progress, it’s likely to be another whole year before I return to “normal.”

Feeling disappointed and discouraged. Sending up a complaint to heaven, knowing that my Lord understands, that He cares, that He hears me.

Answered prayer

The next day, doing a review of my blog. Reading through a few old posts to decide whether to add a new tag to some of them.

Taking a look at “Study Break,” published in August, 2018. The gist of the article: I was trying to persuade God that I needed a break from some of the suffering I was going through at that time, just as I’d needed an occasional break from studying during my high school and college years. A few days later, I’d seen His answer in a couple of unexpected ways.

Now I’m thinking about that same request. And seeing another answer, four years later.

In a way, 2022 was one long study break for me. Time to rest and relax as much as I needed to throughout the day at least five or six days a week. Few interruptions in my me-time.

Of course there were some stresses. Continuing family conflicts. A bout with the flu. Travel, which always throws me off. Another new health issue that will hopefully be resolved soon. But over all, the last twelve months were nothing like the intense, long-drawn-out, shattering attacks of the previous three years. I’d had a study break.

A delayed answer to my prayer.

God remembers

I’ve always been intrigued when the Bible says God “remembered” someone, like Noah in the ark (Genesis 8:1). Of course He never literally forgot Noah. That would be impossible for an all-knowing God. So what exactly does it mean?

According to the Compelling Truth website, when God remembers someone, He turns His attention to them and acts on their behalf. When a psalmist asks to be remembered, he’s not requesting a passive thought or two from God. He’s praying that God will actively rescue him from his troubles.

(My comment on this definition: Just as God never forgets someone, He never actually turns His attention away from anyone and therefore has to turn it back as He remembers them. The wording above is more of a human expression than a precise description of what occurs in the spiritual realm. The Lord of the universe is always attentive to every one of us. All eight billion. All the time. He can do that. He’s God.)

Rereading my old post, I get a sense that at the beginning of 2022, God remembered my long-ago prayer for a study break and said, “Okay. Yeah. I’ll do that now.” (I also have to look back at the irony that less than a year after my plaintive plea for some relief from my sufferings, I began being bombarded by one new hit after another. What was that all about?)

And so, once again, my complaint turns to praise. I can honestly thank my gracious and loving God for this past year. Despite its disappointments it was far, far better than anything I’ve experienced in a long time. He remembered me in the biblical sense of the word. He acted on my behalf.

There is hope. 2023 could be another study-break year, bringing additional healing and strength. Even if it’s not, the powerful love of a compassionate God will be with me every day. I can voice my complaint when I need to, knowing that doing so will lead me back to giving Him the praise He deserves, just as it did for the writers of the psalms of lament.

 

Bringing Joy

John brings joy

I always think of John the Baptist as a harsh, critical, angry kind of guy. Some of his earliest recorded words were, “You brood of vipers!” (Luke 3:7). He scolded the crowds who came to hear him. His language was so sharp, so judgmental that it led to his imprisonment by Herod, followed by his execution. Quite a contrast to the gentle baby Jesus lying in a manger.

And yet the angel of the Lord, when announcing John’s coming birth to his father, Zechariah, says John will bring joy to those around him (Luke 1:14). I can see how he might do that in a very limited way. Of course he’ll bring joy to his parents, who had pretty much given up hope of ever having a child. Zechariah’s friends and relatives will rejoice with him, too, over the miraculous event.

But I just can’t imagine the fiery John the Baptist bringing joy to anyone else. Conviction, yes. Sorrow, yes. Joy, no.

Then I read on in Luke chapter 3, looking for hints of bringing joy. Once again, his comments sound harsh and critical to my ears. He’s demanding self-sacrifice from his hearers. That’s never easy for us naturally self-centered and fearful creatures.

If you have two tunics, give one to the needy. (But what if something happens to the one that I have left?)

Share whatever food you have with those who are hungry. (But what if I don’t have enough for tomorrow? Or next week?)

To the tax collectors: Don’t collect any more money than you’re required to. (I’ve been told that they didn’t have a set income. Their wages consisted of whatever they could gather beyond the amount they sent to Rome.)

To the soldiers: No extortion, no false accusations, be content with your pay. (Sounds like they were poorly paid and desperate for ways to use their positions of power to compensate.)

Life was uncertain back then. John’s listeners were much more at the mercy of the elements than we are today. And at the mercy of their Roman conquerors. Yet John is telling them to give up what little security they have. Who could find joy in that advice?

It takes a minute, but then I realize the obvious. John’s teaching would bring joy to many. To the poor. The vulnerable. The abused. The recipients of the extra tunic and food. The taxpayers. The potential victims of extortion and false accusations. The ones who learned to find true contentment in their current circumstances. If it spread, the kinder, gentler attitude of John’s followers would bring greater joy to the entire culture.

Jesus brings joy

At this time of year, we focus on the baby Jesus and the message of joy that He brings. Is there anything more likely to trigger joy than a sweet, harmless, helpless little baby? God created us this way. As moms and dads snuggle their children shortly after birth, the parents’ bodies release hormones that generate good feelings, helping them bond with their new little ones.

And we remember the greetings that the angels brought to the shepherds. Our Christmas carols proclaim peace on earth, good will toward men.

But, like John the Baptist, Jesus could also be harsh. He echoed John’s words in calling the Pharisees a brood of vipers (Matthew 12:34). In Luke 12:51, He declared very bluntly, “Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division.” He said families would be divided by His message. The entire Jewish culture would be split in the debate over whether He was truly the Messiah that they’d been expecting for millennia.

Jesus didn’t bring joy to the religious leaders of His day. He didn’t bring joy to the rich young ruler. He didn’t bring joy to the self-righteous.

Again like John, though, Jesus preached a message of concern for the poor, hope for the vulnerable, and relief for the victims. Yes, He set high standards—making anger comparable to murder, and making lust or remarriage after divorce comparable to adultery. He advised his hearers to tear out the eye or chop off the hand that offends the righteousness of God. But He also proclaimed blessings on the poor in spirit, the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and the persecuted. (All these teachings are found in Matthew chapter 5.)

The Baby brings joy

I know we inherit original sin at conception. Even a newborn isn’t entirely innocent. He’s a bundle of selfishness, demanding that his needs be met without lifting a finger to minister to anyone else. But in his newness and neediness and naivety, that baby is a symbol of the poor in spirit, the meek, and the pure in heart.

Maybe that’s one reason God sent Jesus to us as an infant. In His first appearance, He reminds us of the good, the pure, and the hope that we hold. He touches the hearts of those around Him, softening them by His very presence.

So I’ll take some time this Christmas season to find joy in Jesus the baby. During this period of busyness, I’ll occasionally turn my eyes from the pain and suffering around me without accusing myself of denial or escapism. I’ll receive that joy as a gift from God to be remembered and celebrated at least once a year. Later, I’ll recall the sorrow and the injustice in my world. But right now I’ll rest in the joy and peace and hope that the angels declared to the shepherds and that the Baby stirs in the hearts of all who come near to Him.