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.