Remember

Sometimes I think that I should've been born in the 80's—okay, so I WAS born in the 80's, but I wish that I'd lived to remember most of them. As it is I was only alive for 3 of those glorious years. But looking back at the pictures of my parents in the 80's; the hair, the colors, the cars—the shorts—it just makes me wish that I grew up then. And oh the music! There's something about hair-metal that grips me. I love the falsetto screams and guitar solos that ripped through the airwaves back then. If only I were alive for the 80's.

That being said, I thoroughly enjoyed the music that was played on the radio at work today. Someone in the back switched the radio from the pop-station with its incessant looping of Kesha, Lady Gaga, Lil' Wayne, and Justin Beiber, to the classic rock station. I was so happy. All day I sang along to bands like Def Leppard, Chicago, and Foreigner—but what really got me thinking was Journey. The song “Lights” came on, and for that 3 minutes and 11 seconds I stopped. I walked back to the break room and simply stopped to listen. It was beautiful. “Whoa ooohhh oh oh oh. When the lights, go down in the city, and the sun shines on the bay—ooh I wanna be there, in my city!” Those words played over the soft buzz of talking and the loud clinking of dishes in the kitchen at Cracker Barrel, and my heart sang the words along as my mind travelled back to when I was a kid in the truck with my dad on the way to Bonita Lake in Ruidoso. It made me think about all the good times I had with my dad and brother in the past—all the wood-hauling trips. The trips to Allsups. The smell of sawdust. My dad. His mustache. And I found myself smiling in the breakroom—simply reminiscing of those days when a trip to the lake with my dad was the one desire of my heart. PB&J's and Coca-Cola and orange powerbait. The smell of fish. Getting a nibble on my pole and reeling in moss-covered sticks. Getting nibbles on my pole and actually reeling in fish. My Mickey-Mouse pole. Dakota falling into the lake. Catching crawdads. Memory after memory flooded me as I sat in the breakroom and it was all I could do to keep from crying out of joy. I love my dad so much.

And it dawned on me that remembering things is a good thing. I'm not talking about having a good memory, but I'm talking about not forgetting the things that have passed before. The things that have occurred to make us who we are today. I think that we sometimes shy away from remembering things of the past because as fallen creatures we go too far and begin to live in the past rather than just remembering. But its important to remember things—in fact God mentions rememberance over and over again in His word: (Deuteronomy 5:15) “Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the Lord your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.” And again, (Deuteronomy 7:18) “But do not be afraid of them; remember well what the Lord your God did to Pharaoh and to all Egypt.” (Isaiah 46:9) “Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me.”

We tend to forget where we come from. We tend to forget what it is that made us who we are. When my dad calls me just to tell me that I have a bill to pay, or he calls to tell me to check the oil in my car. Or he calls me and tells me that the news says the roads are icy—instead of getting annoyed at these things I should remember that he loves me. Remember the time that he saved me from the port-a-potty because the door locked and I was too short to unlock it. I should remember the time that he carried me inside when I busted my knee. I should remember the countless times he baited my hook for me. Remember the hours he spent playing catch with me. The countless times he read stories to me at night.

I think that's why God always tells us to remember what He's done. To look back at the wonders of His power. To look back and remember it was Him that carried us through our troubles. And to remember that it is He who delivered salvation. This is why I will daily surrender to this one memory—I will daily remember this: (1 Corinthians 1:22-24) “Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.” I will remember that it was His body on that tree—broken for my transgressions—and I will remember that it was He that rose from the grave—it is Jesus that loves me.