Well, that’s done. Annual Conference, I mean. Another year’s obligation checked off. Another one of those painful business meetings interspersed with a family reunion is now all done. For this year. There’ll be another one. But for now, we’re done. And I survived. Not just survived. I stepped into the flow, waded a little deeper into the water this year. (Our theme was “Water to Witness” – meaning the baptized are called to share the gift and invite others. Hence the water metaphors). I stood for election to the delegation to General and Jurisdictional Conference. And was elected to be a part of the Jurisdictional Conference which will be held in Fort Wayne in July of 2020.
Some of you are thinking, wait a minute you grumble like an upset toddler every year about having to go to Annual Conference, and now you agree to do more? Yeah, I admit the incongruity. But it seems to me that this is a time where sitting on the sidelines is no longer an option. And while I do not claim to have all the answers as to what would be the best direction for the church, my church, your church, to take in regard to faith and culture, I want to be a part of the conversation. No, that’s not quite right. I feel like I should be a part of the conversation. It is a part of being in the family. To be involved, to be committed, to be known.
Known. We want to be known. All of us want to be known. And I don’t mean we want our names in lights, or printed in mile high letters on the marquee, or on every lip and every website and social media post. Most of us don’t really want that – though fame has a certain appeal, let’s be honest. Yet, we are rational enough to know the downside most likely outweighs the upside of that equation. So, it isn’t notoriety that we want. I still suggest, however, we all want to be known. By someone, a few someones anyway, by those close to us, those we know in return.
In our astoundingly connected world, loneliness is still a devastating social ill that affects far too many people. Hundreds of friends on Facebook, but no one who knows the real you. No one who notices your worth, your giftedness, your grace. No one who remembers you. We’ve all encountered that blank look when someone we thought should remember us doesn’t. It’s a sobering, devastating feeling. We feel insignificant, unimportant, alone.
Though, maybe we’ve been the forgetful ones. Maybe someone does that horrible game “Remember me?” and then refuses to tell you their name. Memory is a tricky thing, let’s be honest. We have trouble in the best of times recalling the names and the faces of even those closest to us. Add to that the devastation of dementia of various kinds and we are dealing with one of the worst fears we have these days. Because there is a part of us that believe when our memories are gone, then we are gone. We are made up of the memories we have. Without them we have nothing, we are nothing. A cipher, a zero.
Which brings me to the second essential truth that I hope to leave with the congregation I have been serving these past two years. Another stunningly obvious statement that on the surface might not seem all that important. But I believe that it is not only a profound truth, it is actually a taste of the salvation we are offered as children of God. You are remembered.
Psalm 98 O sing to the LORD a new song, for he has done marvelous things. His right hand and his holy arm have gotten him victory. 2 The LORD has made known his victory; he has revealed his vindication in the sight of the nations. 3 He has remembered his steadfast love and faithfulness to the house of Israel. All the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God. 4 Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises. 5 Sing praises to the LORD with the lyre, with the lyre and the sound of melody. 6 With trumpets and the sound of the horn make a joyful noise before the King, the LORD. 7 Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; the world and those who live in it. 8 Let the floods clap their hands; let the hills sing together for joy 9 at the presence of the LORD, for he is coming to judge the earth. He will judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity.
The Psalms might seem an odd place to go for propositional truth. The psalms are songs, hymns and poems of the people of God, seeking to grasp the mystery in metaphor and emotion. The psalms are a great place to go find companionship for your personal journey, because wherever you are there is a psalm that echoes the state of your soul. If you are joyous, read the psalms. If you are hurting, read the psalms. If you are broken or victorious, if you are hurting or whole, if you are grieving or in love, all this and more is captured in the images and rhetoric of the psalms.
But in the psalms you find descriptions of the nature of God. And here we see that part of the essence of what makes God God is that God remembers. Indeed in the 98th psalm the praise comes because God is a God who remembers. It is essential to the nature of our God. God remembers God’s steadfast love and faithfulness. God remembers.
Perhaps that is too general for you. Sounds nice in the abstract. But not necessarily sustaining. Well, then, let’s get personal. Let’s get specific. Let’s get individual.
Luke 23:39-43 One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" 40 But the other rebuked him, saying, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? 41 And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong." 42 Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." 43 He replied, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."
Oh, we know this one. We read it during Lent, or perhaps in Holy Week. When we remember how Jesus poured out His life, and the words He spoke as He did that pouring. One of the seven last words from the cross. We know this one. But it’s the request that amazes me here. In that moment, that brink of death moment, that ultimate despair moment, this man - of whom we know almost nothing - makes an incredible request. Me, I would ask for rescue. I would ask for relief from suffering and pain. Or maybe I would ask for a place in the next world, if I was able to grasp the concept of the next world in any form or fashion. But not him. This man, we call him the penitent thief, but we don’t really know his crime or condition. After shushing his compatriot on the other side in what some commentators call the first Christian sermon, he then makes a simple request. Remember me.
I don’t know what he expected from this request. I don’t know what was on his mind when he asked it. Did he simply desire that someone somewhere would remember that he once existed, was that enough to give his living and his dying meaning? Or did he know, or suspect, or even hope that what Jesus revealed was actually true. Which is that to be remembered by the living God is to live in paradise. Or living in paradise is being remembered by God.
You are remembered. You who have claimed this gift and tried to walk in love. You are remembered. You who may have doubted your place, felt insignificant, wandered lost and afraid and so very much alone. You are remembered. Can you hear the power in this truth? Can you grasp the gift of this truth, even just a little bit? You are remembered.
The hard truth is that all of us may lose our memory. We may lose our grip on those we love most. And those we love may lose sight of us. It is happening with all too frequent regularity. But even forgotten by our own family, or even when we forget every face in front of us, we are remembered. So, what else can we do with this truth, but tell everyone we know, until they become the ones who tell us.
You are remembered. Thanks be to the God who remembers.
Shalom,
Derek
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