09/09/2007

"Can you still remember?
Are you still in love with him?
Remember, Paul begged, remember Jesus.
Before you remember anything, remember him.
If you forget anything, don't forget him."
-Max Lucado ("Six Hours One Friday")

I read and then reread this paragraph from Max Lucado this morning. It struck me partially because I know how often I am guilty of becoming cavalier in my faith, too familiar with the story to let it penetrate my heart, and thus minimizing the sacrifice of Jesus in comparison with my dinner plans, activities, or desires. But, really, the line that my mind automatically put in capital letters, bold print, underlined, and italicized was the very last line of the paragraph:

"If you forget anything, don't forget him."

And, this is why-- Have you ever known anyone who forgot everything but Jesus? It seems to me we don't control what we forget, but my Grandpa has forgotten everything but Jesus. Grandpa resides in a home for the elderly, and advanced Parkinson's (and possibly Alzheimer's) has robbed him of his memory. I picture him vividly...as he was years ago, when I was young and when he was lively and silly and loving. Today, however, if I walked into his room, I would be greeted with a blank stare. Years have taken an eraser to his memory. But Parkinson's couldn't erase his Jesus.

He may not know my name. My face might not ring a bell. He would be baffled at my children. He is probably unaware that he is a great grandfather. But if I sat down next to him and started to sing "No One Ever Cared For Me Like Jesus," he would join in. His voice is warbly. It reminds me of my Great Grandmother's voice. (She used to sing hymns with us at 106 without her dentures in place!) Grandpa sings about Jesus. Grandpa forgot everything but Jesus.

If you had to live with only one memory, what would you choose? Your children? Your spouse? Your favorite vacation? Your house? The amount in your bank account? Your car? Your best friend?

"Before you remember anything, remember him."

It seems the least we can do. After all, before He remembered anything, He remembered us. There is a song, written by a mother for her child. The last verse says this (to her baby):

"Many things can be misplaced, your very memory can be erased. But, no matter what the time or place, you cannot lose my love."

Our heavenly Father says the same thing. In my Grandpa's case, his "Daddy" left him the best memory of all--the image of Him. Dying is not always so kind. Many Christians have spent their last days unaware of the Savior who holds their hand. But, how blessed it is to remember Him. And since, for now, I have my memory in tact, let me choose, over and over again, to focus on Him. Let me imprint His face, His nail-pierced hands, and His wounded side in my heart. Let me choose to remember Him now, that I might not forget Him later.