what needs to be forgotten?
When my grandmother was first diagnosed with dementia and my parents spent some time with her, my mom came back with these stories about how she was behaving.
Apparently, my grandmother would look out the window each day, looking and expecting to see Jesus return. She sang them songs she said Jesus had given her. And she talked about the moments when she'd ask God to remind her where she'd put down her phone – which was her lifeline as she still lived alone – when she needed to pick it up again, and He would.
I didn’t know much about dementia and I didn't have much of a relationship with my grandmother, so I wasn't sure what I was expecting. But I was kind of shocked to hear stories that described a life of radical and bold faith. Partly because I didn’t know she loved Jesus, especially not like that. And partly because the contrast was so stark.
Obviously, dementia is a different thing, but it made me think about what happens when less important things get stripped away – or what life might look like if those things were put in their proper place, at the feet of Jesus.
Suddenly, my life felt crowded and distracting.
My grandmother didn't have a choice about what she remembered and what she forgot, but I do. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
Especially as we step into a new year, it’s easy to want to add things. Habits and rhythms. We want to do more with our days and our abilities. But what about the things we need to strip away? Things that maybe aren't even that bad, but they distract us from what matters most.
We like to quote Isaiah 43:19 in the new year: “I am doing a new thing!” But verse 18 leads with, “Forget the former things.”
As I keep thinking about what this year is for, I keep asking myself this question: What am I looking for – and what needs to be forgotten – in order to bring the most glory to God this year?
Today is a great day to ask that question. As Bob Goff likes to say, you can quit anything on a Thursday. What do you need to quit today?
The power of God is in you, even on a Thursday.