lenten journey, day 17 — a prayer for the forgotten

Tonight at work, my coworker inquired about the health of a mutual friend who has been ill. My heart sank as I realized that it had been some time since I’d heard an update on her condition, and I had simply (this is so hard to admit) forgotten all about her.

I’m not saying I merely neglected to pray or couldn’t find time to call. No, when I say I forgot, I mean it’s like I never knew she was sick in the first place. God help me…I’m a worm.

As I was driving home, I started thinking about other recent forgettings. There was my friend who emailed to tell me about a major life change she was undertaking. I printed the message out, promptly misplaced it, and forgot all about writing or calling with encouragement. Then there was the time last week that I completely forgot my commitment to read to my daughter’s class. I haven’t gotten around to introducing myself to the new neighbors who moved in months ago. And I haven’t called my mom in two weeks. Yes, I’m a worm.

Forgetfulness is really just the bitter fruit of selfishness. And we are (or at least I am) so disturbingly selfish. Our self-centered, fallen world is populated by the forgetful and the forgotten. We wander aimlessly from place to place and person to person, trying desperately to remember what it is we’re supposed to be doing.

We may forget about each other, but there is One who doesn’t forget about us. It is simply not in his nature to abandon, forsake, let go, or fail to remember even the least of his children. Throughout scripture, God remembers his promises to his children (Genesis 9:15, Exodus 2:24, Luke 1:72-73). He remembers to abundantly grant his own mercy and love (Psalm 25:6, Luke 1:54). He remembers us, even when we forget or stray from him (a truth beautifully communicated through the parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son—all in Luke 15).

Of course, there is one pretty important thing that God does forget. For those who have placed their faith in Christ Jesus, he graciously forgets that we’re worms. In his desire to erase who we were before the righteousness of Christ made us a new creation, he hurls all our sins and iniquities into the depths of the sea, never to be remembered again. And that’s a truth worth clinging to.

God, I spread my hands before your throne and thank you for remembering the forgotten ones of this world. I ask you to look upon them with kindness and mercy and to give them sweet glimpses of the One who cannot forget his children. Lord, how amazing you are to love a selfish, forgetful worm like me. You remember me—my name, my needs, my hurts, even the number of hairs on my head—yet because of Jesus, you forget all that once separated me from you. Oh Father, would you continue to remember my desperate need for mercy and forgiveness? Would you help me to remember the needs and hurts of those around me? I long to bear the sweet fruit of faithfulness, not the bitter fruit of forgetfulness. Yes, and amen.

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.” — Isaiah 49:15-16

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” — Luke 12:6-7