How Quickly We Forget

For the past few years, my health hasn’t been great. I’ve had a lot of pain and not a lot of energy, a lot of the time. Sometimes it felt like my legs had 50-pound weights on them, walking up the stairs. I often had to consciously push myself to do what I needed to do.

Then, in December, I received surgery that made all this go away. I’ve felt back to my old self again. I’ve felt years younger. 

But what astonishes me is how quickly I have forgotten this. There are days when not one memory of how I used to feel crosses my mind. I forget to be grateful that my health issues had a solution, unlike so many who don’t. I forget to be grateful that I have health at all, unlike some who have never had it. 

This is not the only thing I have forgotten. 

I think back to years and years in Tanzania when electricity was a source of a great deal of stress in my life. If I recall correctly, the worst years were 2006 and 2011–when power rationing happened every single day for almost the whole year. In 2006, we were without power from 7 am to 7 pm, and in 2011, it was off for about 6 hours every day. Other years, we could go weeks without any power cuts, but most weeks had at least one or two. 

I spent a tremendous amount of mental energy thinking about electricity and the effects of not having electricity. Sometimes over important issues: What will we do if the power goes off (again) during youth group and we have 30 kids in our house in the dark? Sometimes the mundane: Should I put dinner in the crock pot if I don’t know if we’ll have a cut today? Or, Darn, the laundry stopped mid-cycle again. The movie went off while the kids were watching it–there goes my work time. Googling: How long can leftovers be unrefrigerated? Will mayonnaise go bad if it doesn’t stay cold? (Fun Fact: No. Google it yourself.) 

Unreliable electricity took up so much time: I made countless phone calls to the power company, trying to get information about when it would come back on. I spent so many sweltering nights with little sleep. I lost work time because my phone or computer ran out of juice. Plans were changed; plans were canceled. 

When the power came back on after a long cut, we cheered and danced. When driving home at night, we craned our necks, looking for lights in the neighborhood. “Do you think it’s on?” we would ask each other. “I’m not sure; maybe that house just has a generator.” Arriving home, flipping on a switch and seeing a light appear would bring a tangible wave of relief. We will sleep tonight. The laundry will get done. 

Since moving back to California, the power has gone off maybe half a dozen times in four years. It’s never been off more than an hour. And yet, how often do I think about this? How often do I thank God for consistent electricity and for the significant decrease in stress I experience now? I don’t. I hardly even think about it. 

I flip it on and flip it off and it just keeps coming and coming and coming and never stops. It’s extraordinary. But I act like it’s ordinary. Even though I, of all people, should know better. Yet I forget.

Often, remembering is passive. Memories pop into our heads unbidden, and some we savor and some we push away. They might get triggered by a smell or a picture. But the act of remembering is not an action verb; it’s just something that happens. 

Or is it?

Search for the word “remember” in the Bible and it’s clear that remembering isn’t supposed to be passive. It’s the opposite: a command. Countless times.

Remember that you were slaves in Egypt.
Remember how the Lord your God led you all the way in the wilderness. 
Remember what the Lord your God did to Pharoah. 
Remember the wonders he has done.
Remember your Creator. 

Why would God demand this? Because intertwined with remembrance is gratitude. If the most joyful people are the most grateful, and we are the most grateful when we remember, then we must remember actively, consciously, purposefully. 

When times are good, we must remember the difficult things we have left behind. When times are bad, we must remember how far God has brought us. Most days are a mixture of good and bad, and thus, we must remember both. There, gratitude is born. 

God must know that we tend to forget, which is why he told us to create reminders. 

A scroll of remembrance was written in his presence.
These stones are to be a memorial. 
Take this bread and this cup; do this in remembrance of me. 

If we need triggers to remember God’s goodness, then let’s trigger away. Paint paintings. Sing songs. Ink tattoos. Scribble mirror notes. Plant trees. 

Write blog posts in awe of newfound health and consistent electricity. 

Just let us not forget.