Today marks two years since Zachary shattered his femur, changing the course of our summer. I feel tremendously selfish to steal this national holiday for our very tight-knit family history.
My youngest brother currently serves in the military.
My oldest brother served in Kuwait. And Saudi Arabia. And Iraq. And a dozen other places.
My father fought in Vietnam.
My father-in-law served all over this nation and overseas during his 20-year career in the Air Force.
My husband’s grandfather was a medic in WW2.
It is vital that we remember all who have served and sacrificed for our nation and our freedoms. It is critical that we remember and not forget. Much has been given and little repaid. They deserve this day.
And yet this is not all there is to remember.
“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” — George Santayana
Our Big Word Bible Studies have gone through four different historical books of the Old Testament. (In case you’ve not yet noticed, I really enjoy history.) A number of common threads have surfaced, but one theme has pronounced itself supreme. Remember the Lord. He is God and there is none like Him.
All throughout the history of Israel (and the world), we see human forgetfulness.
God parts the Red Sea, provides food and safety and they moan and groan and claim things were better under the brutal slave system in Egypt. God offers the Law (written down), told by prophets and priests, yet His chosen people consistently forget His statutes and follow their own ways. He proves Himself supreme again and again, and they pursue hollow idols.
While many rush to condemn the Hebrews for their flighty devotion, we do the very same thing. We forget far too easily.
We sing of God’s great strength and righteousness on Sunday, but on Monday we cower under our daily responsibilities. By Wednesday we’ve chosen our own standards of what is right. We exalt His wisdom, then depend on our own finite intelligence to make every decision and explain away every miracle. We forget His truths. We forget all that He has done for us. We forget Him.
I don’t want to forget.
“May the way we live our lives serve as the greatest memorial to those who ensured our freedom.” — Paul Myhill, president and founder of TrafficJam
This whole conversation started with me remembering Zach’s broken leg. I remember the pain. I remember the trials and the difficulties. I remember how far we’ve come and the God (and community) that carried us through. I remember the healing. I remember the grace. I remember the power and peace and provision. I remember the Lord.
Did you know that Zachary’s name means “remember the Lord?” This child, an unexpected miracle, reminds us daily about the power of our God, about the lengths to which He will go to prove His love to us.
I remember the freedoms granted me by those who have sacrificed so much … political freedoms, national freedoms, personal freedoms, spiritual freedoms.
Talk to me.
What momentous events help you remember how blessed you are? What reminds you of where you were and how far you’ve come?