Practice the Past

I woke up thinking about Her. I would really rather NOT think about Her because there is not a lot of pleasure associated with thinking about Her. There is a lot of pain and multiple problems and maybe even a little bit of panic. But pleasure? Not so much.

I’m not sure why after many months of absence she came slithering through my morning bringing a bulging crate of difficult memories with her. But I needed to do something with it – it was too big to leave in the middle of life.

There may be some of you “tsk-tsking” and looking sideways in horror at my obvious need to forgive and forget. Stay with me on this. I think we are headed somewhere important.

And on the other hand, some of you may have your own memory crates, delivered not by “her” but by “him” or “them” or even multiple “hers” and “thems” with a few “its” thrown in for good measure. Whatever the source of these extreme memories I hope you will ponder this alternative to “forgive and forget” carefully with me.

What to do with this crate? Well, since it was Sunday, I went to church with it. Fortunately, it was Communion Sunday, the time we remember the eternal cost of His rescue and redemption. So there I was on the second row – with the unwelcome crate of oozing mess – remembering again. Not forgetting. Remembering.

And that, I think, is how it should be.

Often people who are attempting to help in the aftermath of a hard time will say, “Get over it. Let it go. Move on. Forget it.” But I’m thinking there is a richer, more redemptive option. Maybe we should remember. Maybe we should actually relive and reenact. Maybe we should remember thoroughly. Maybe we should practice the past.

That is what Communion is about, after all.

Communion was born out of the Jewish Passover Feast, which is a celebration to remember the provision of God in bringing His people out of slavery and into a new life of freedom. Their exodus was a perilous process filled with royal threats, treacherous promises and mind-boggling plagues. Their time under Egyptian rule culminated with a visit from God’s Death Angel. And the only ones to be saved from that tragedy were the households who proclaimed trust in God by placing lamb’s blood on the doorway of their homes. If blood was there, the Death Angel passed over them and left them untouched.

Every year faithful Jews were to remember their past and remember God’s grace to them by celebrating Passover with its special unleavened bread. (Deuteronomy 16:1-8) And not just remember it however they chose. Every year they were to remember to the point of reenacting the Passover. They were to remember their slavery. Remembering the pain caused them to cherish the rescue. They were to remember it and relive it. They were to practice the past.

Jesus and His disciples were reenacting Passover, eating unleavened bread and sharing the “fruit of the vine” together, when He instituted a supper “in remembrance” of Him. That’s when the Christian practice of communion began. (I Corinthians 11:23-24) When we celebrate the Passover meal of the New Covenant – Communion – we remember both His redemptive sacrifice and our sin which made it necessary. So, while I sat there with that crate of unexpected remembrances on that Communion Sunday, it was really important for me to remember and to remember thoroughly. Remember both the pain and the provisions He gave me to walk through it.

Remembering – not remembering in order to rewrite history through warped, rose-colored lenses. That would not be thorough remembering. But remembering with clarity.

That memory crate contained real “false kisses on the cheek” betrayal, real “Your spiritual slip is showing” condemnation, real “Give me some silver coins” treachery, real “Leave them in the ditch while I look the other way” denials. Oozing sepulcher specimens that Heaven abhors. And if Heaven deems them detestable, so should I, no matter how the Master turned them into beauty or what good eventually became of them. In those moments, at that chapter of time they were rotten and smelled of Sulphur.

You may occasionally wake up to similar crates of similar memories. A crate such as this calls for repentance and craves redemption. And the worship of Communion calls for authenticity and vulnerability; it is no place for putting on a brave face, a mask of invincibility.

To diminish the wrong diminishes the rescue.

I overflow with joy that He rescued me. He heard my cry and extracted me from having to live so close to the contents of that crate. I can never forget His goodness.

I need to remember the calamity thoroughly and then – without even starting a new sentence – I need to remember to celebrate His rescue from and redemption of that calamity. They are both part of one thought. Remembering the pain thoroughly (Practicing the Past) means that I remember His provision in the pain and His rescue from the pain.

And soon, if I practice the past thoroughly, my memory of the pain will be inextricably woven into my memory of His provision. The memory of The One will eclipse the memory of the other. Praise for His presence and His peace and His provision will be uppermost and the calamity that made His intervention necessary will be a mere detail.

She becomes merely a fleeting thought of a foggy morning mind.

In practicing the past (remembering thoroughly), my pain becomes a sacrifice of praise. In remembering thoroughly, I bring the crate and offer it to Him for disposal – as He chooses. I commit again to trusting Him to make it right, to bring beauty from the ashes of my offering. In remembering thoroughly He floods me with peace and gratitude and hope and rest.

And so there I was on the second row with the big crate of oozing mess. Remembering. Not forgetting. Remembering again. And forgiving again. Remembering all of it – the calamity and the chaos – and the provisions and the protection.

And that is how it should be.

Remembering thoroughly. Practicing the past.

Ephesians 2:1-10

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience—

among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—

and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

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My appreciation to our pastor, Clif Wilcox, who brought me to encounter the truth of Practicing the Past. He handles the Word with great care and feeds us reliable Truth every week. His sermons are available HERE.