I'm Glad For A God Who Doesn't Forget

One of my favorite stories is about an older couple who went out for dinner with friends. They went in one car; the two men in front, their wives in the back. One of the men said to the other, “We were in a terrific restaurant a few weeks ago that we really liked.” “Oh?” said his friend. “What was the name of it?” “Hmmm,” replied the other man, “What’s the name of the flower, usually red or white, that men give to the women they love?” His friend thought for a moment. “Do you mean roses?” “That’s it!” exclaimed the other man as he turned to his wife in the back seat. “Hey Rose!” he said. “What’s the name of the restaurant we were in a few weeks back that we liked so much?”

I can identify with those whose memories fail them.

Two weeks ago, I worked hard to remember Mother’s Day. I have a mother yet living, another mother who is my wife, two daughters in law who are mothers, and a daughter who expects to give birth in October. It was complicated, but with the help of others, I managed to remember them all with flowers and gifts. It isn’t easy for me to remember.

Today is Memorial Day. As Loreen and I walked our circuit this morning at 6:30, a neighbor stepped out his door to raise our country’s flag. “Hand over your heart!” he called out with a smile. He remembered, and I wished for a flag pole of my own. When I opened the newspaper, I found an entire page dedicated to seventeen men and women from southern Arizona. They gave their lives while serving our country in Afghanistan and Iraq. I read their stories. By the time I finished, my eyes were no longer dry. I need these reminders.

To be sure, I have a better memory than some. A couple of weeks ago, I read about a man with brain damage. He has an 8-second memory. His wife visits the long term care facility where he lives, and they have a wonderful time together. However, he can’t remember her between visits. They have to get re-acquainted each time. I’m better than that. I can remember at least eight days.

At times like this, I’m especially glad for a God who doesn’t forget. I know – when we are discouraged by awful things in life, we are tempted to think otherwise. In the Bible (Isaiah 49:14), the prophet Isaiah reports such a complaint from Israel: “The Lord has forsaken me, and my Lord has forgotten me.”

The Lord replies through the prophet: “Can a woman forget her nursing child, and not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands.”

Think of it! Every time Jesus looks at the palms of his hands, he remembers me. He remembers you. I’m glad for a God who doesn’t forget. Aren't you?