Saturday morning was slow. It was lazy. And comfortable. And familiar.
This morning I felt the prodding of the Lord to go back through old journals, and so I compiled them, gathering them from every corner of my room:
the ones on the book shelf just a bit dusty,
the one on the coffee table all too familiar
the ones under the bed all but forgotten.
I spent three hours in those pages, remembering and recalling and crying and blushing. I can hardly believe I once thought some of those thoughts, believed some of those beliefs, was concerted about some of those unknowns. But in those pages I also heard my own voice. The dreams are the same; the desires, familiar.
And the God who made it all happen sat back with me and savored the view:
He has been so faithful.
Page after page, with ink spilled on both sides, He has proven Himself to be the constant companion of my soul. The only One who could walk all those paths and heed all those thoughts. He alone has been the common thread in every season.
I don’t know about you, but I am quick to forget. I am slow of remembrance. I do not recall naturally, or remember unaffectedly. I have to want it, to choose it, and to make time for it.
So, I want to invite you to do just that. I want to invite you to join me in a week of reflection on the faithfulness of God. I want to invite you to pull out your journal, your photo albums, your old blog entries, and recall the faithfulness of our God. I want to invite you to pray with me concerning the folly of forgetfulness and the joy of remembrance.
What follows will be a series of prayers, all of which you are invited to pray along with me. You can read them slowly during your quiet time or write your own. However you chose to participate, I’m glad to have you remembering alongside me.
So go on, grab that journal on your shelf and the one under the bed.
Because these books hold our story.
And they cry,
“But I am poor and needy;
Yet the Lord thinks upon me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
Do not delay, O my God”