A Devotion for the Memory-Keepers

It’s that time of year again! Even if you don’t have school-aged children in your home, you know what I’m talking about…. The stores stocked with aisles of pencils, folders, and lunchboxes. The roads peppered with yellow school buses and weaving carlines picking up and dropping off anxious and excited students. Even though it’s only the students that are going back to school, in some ways, it feels like we all are.

This time of year always makes me nostalgic. I start to remember particular “first school days,” some with fondness, some with gratitude that I don’t have to experience middle school again. I remember my first day of kindergarten, ecstatic to show off my new Minnie Mouse backpack – and the crestfallen feeling I had when I walked in the classroom to see not one but two other girls carrying the same bag.

I remember the anxiety that came with beginning high school, and the sigh of relief as I walked into my first period class and saw the face of a beloved friend. Memories that mark significant days for me help me in parenting and guiding my children through their significant days. I know that they will experience both joy and worry in school, that first days and last days will hold a spectrum of emotions and memories.

As humans, we have a complicated relationship with memory. As far as I can tell, we are the only part of creation that seeks to remember our histories and pass them down. The dog or bird or horse or hippo have no concerns about yesterday. The wren does not regret. The lion does not write an autobiography nor does the fish. Part of what it means to be human is to be people who remember.

When I turned to the Psalm in the lectionary this week, I found a scripture that is full of memories.

Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and all that is within me,
bless his holy name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and do not forget all his benefits—
who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the Pit,
who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
who satisfies you with good as long as you live
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

The Lord works vindication
and justice for all who are oppressed.
He made known his ways to Moses,
his acts to the people of Israel.
The Lord is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

Each verse of Psalm 103 contains within it countless stories. Stories when God’s mercy was on full display. Stories of God showing up, bringing mighty works and steadfast love.

When we read this Psalm, we too remember.

We remember those days filled with anxiety or joy. Days in the pit and days on the mountains of blessing.

As the body of people called the church, we are tasked with bearing the memories of the people of God. That is why we painstakingly create and repair stained glass windows that narrate the good news. It is why we carve remembrances into marble arches, so that when we pass under them on our way to worship, we remember.

As the body of Christ in disaster work, it is also our task to remember. We hold the stories of our survivors – the painful, exciting, heavy and joyful ones alike. We remember with them how God has moved, we lay our hands on their homes and lives and pray that the days in the pit would be yet a memory.

When we remember, we honor what has been and we anticipate what could be. To remember well does not mean we have to dwell in the past or remain there. Rather, as remembering people, we can say together: “Can’t God work again?”

The Psalmist teaches us that remembering is not just our identity, but also God’s. We worship a God who has not forgotten us, who does not dismiss our pain, but rather returns, again and again, to lift us from the pit.

May we, in our work, model this character of God. May we be remembering people, continually returning to our praises of our God who abides with us.

With you on the journey,

Chaplain Amy