April 17, 2007 | Papa Smith

I remember forgetting that before

I’m incredibley forgettful. This morning I forgot to take our friend’s children to school – yes, it was an “off” morning. Amy’s sick and we only have a vague memory of what sleep is, but these are only small enhancements to my general forgetfullness.

I took the day off work to help Amy get some sleep. After her first morning nap we walked down to our favorite spot in the neighborhood, High Point Cafe. What’s there? The Moleskine I had forgotten sometime in March and have been looking for ever since.

These moments point toward a deeper and more unsettling forgetfulness that stains my life. I am forgetful of the stories, the truths, and the promises that give me life, those things that afford me freedom in any circumstance.

the little forget

This morning, like many mornings, I woke up thinking and feeling that I am just a man with a lot of work to do, and not enough time to do it. Specifically feeling like I need to help Amy feel better, figure out why Levi is ill and fix it, make sure Brighton doesn’t whine, figure out where all this web design stuff is going for me and how it affects our family, figure out if we’ll ever get to London, and generally control my life.

Pssst. Remember!

Somewhere around asking Amy if staying home would be helpful, thinking that I am a good person for helping my wife, realizing I would rather work on some web design than entertain, feed, change, and love little boys all day, I felt a familiar pain. It was similar to hunger, and at first it felt like the spiritual/emotional equivalent to a few goldfish crackers would help it go away.

It got worse though. I wasn’t going to be able to do any of those things on my list, let alone do them well, or with love. The hunger moved from my head into my deep gut and the want of a few goldfish turned to needing a meal, a meal with friends, with wine, and a room warm with laughter. This is what it feels like to remember.

I can’t remember to eat on my own!

I don’t know about you, but I’ve never instructed my stomach to be hungry. It is a matter of life. It’s in us. We need food to live. So what’s up with not being able to remember to eat the truth? Eat the truth? Yeah, you know what I mean, like when we hear something true, and you think: “man, I could eat that up!”

This morning, I did not instruct my heart to hunger for change. I didn’t spiritually come to a “realization”. Something, or someone made me hungry for the meal I had forgotten eat.

I think Jesus is in the business of doing whatever it takes to help me remember what I regularly forget. By the end of the day, I will have forgotten that I ever wrote all this down, recalled the bits of truth I remembered while writing it down, and forget again! Sometimes it will be Amy reminding me of my roots, my home, my Father, my Hero Jesus. Other times it will be a stranger smiling or a good song, and still other times it will be the uncomfortable whisper of God’s Spirit.

Remembering is good, but its not that good

What I need to remember is that remembering isn’t the meal, its being hungry. Jesus is the meal. Why do I wake up needing help to remember that I’m hungry for more than crackers? Because I’m a naturally self-reliant foolish man. Why doesn’t Jesus fill me up for good! Because the world is not “sort of” messed up. Its all the way messed up.

There will be a day

We had communion for the first time in six weeks on Easter Sunday. I wanted to eat the whole loaf and drink the cup dry. I was so thirsty for the body and blood we’d been fasting from for lent. This reminded me of two things:

1. Jesus is good to eat. He is best to eat in the company of others, and his body is the sweetest when the others are almost as hungry as you are!
2. One day there will be no more hunger. There will only be eating eating eating. We will feed on the perfect love we have to offer each other, and we will be delighted. We will laugh with love.