101: For When You Forget
I was in 3rd grade, and our class was learning all about ancient Greece. I remember being fascinated by it all—the customs, the mythology, the food {definitely the food}, the style, the stories, the culture—all the things that shaped their way of life. However, I was not super interested in one key part of the curriculum—learning the Greek alphabet.
Why we were learning about this in 3rd grade, I’m still not quite sure, but nonetheless, I can assure you I studied very hard to make sure I had each and every letter memorized. I was coming to understand myself as a “good student” and had a developing reputation to uphold. I needed to make sure I got it right.
And yet, even with the best of intentions, reviewing the alphabet countless times, I couldn’t help but it get it wrong. It was a few days before the big test, and we were doing some preparation together as a class. Our teacher decided to lead us in a Greek alphabet drill of sorts. So, one-by-one, we went around the room, each student reciting one letter when it was their turn. “Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta…” my classmates recited. It was quickly my turn. This was my moment. “Epsilon!” I stated confidently. I made it through. I breathed a sigh of relief and the drill continued.
What I did not anticipate was that, with 15 students in the class, and 24 letters in the Greek alphabet, many of us would be called on again. I was one of them. And when my second, completely unexpected, turn came around, I drew a total blank. I could not remember. My cheeks turned bright red. My palms began to sweat. My stomach swirled. Why could I not think of the next letter? How could I have completely forgotten?
After many seconds of not being able to recall, the teacher kindly invited another student to help me out. “Upsilon,” my fellow classmate said. I kid you not, the letter I couldn’t remember was Upsilon. Oops, indeed.
I know it’s a low-stakes story, but I share it because I can look back at that particular experience and pinpoint it as one of the first moments I remember feeling the shame that often sneaks in when we forget.
The truth is, we live in a world where knowledge is highly sought after, and the ability to retain it is respected and admired. If memory serves us well, life will treat us right. Right?
And yet, we all know we won’t always remember. In our day-to-day lives, it is all too easy to forget a name, an appointment, an item on the agenda or on our mental grocery list, an important date on the calendar, the correct answer on a quiz, an email or a text that needs a reply. And when these bits of knowledge and information and expectation fall through the cracks, we are quick to scold ourselves {and sometimes each other} for little lapses in memory.
And then, of course, what about the kind of memory loss that is more than a lapse? Many of us know loved ones who suffer from the symptoms of dementia. It’s the kind of forgetting that can slowly break our hearts. It’s also the kind of forgetting that can scare us half to death, as we hold the possibility that those same symptoms could be a part of our very own experience someday.
In many ways, that fear, that heartbreak, that internal scolding—they all reveal that deep down, many of us might believe our memory makes us who we are. That our ability to cognitively hold on to plans, information, names, stories, and experiences determines our dignity and our worth. And as far as society goes, unfortunately that belief far too often holds true.
But the deeper truth is that cognitive memory isn’t all there is. We are more than our minds. We are entire human beings. And when we inevitably forget, on many different levels, that truth matters.
John Swinton, a pastor, an author, a professor, and a leading voice at the intersection of theology and disability, centers his work on this truth. In a conversation on the Everything Happens Podcast with Kate Bowler , he shared that it isn’t our memory, but God’s memory, that is most important. Because we are held in its safety, even when we forget. And well, on a podcast like this, I think that’s pretty important to remember.
We might lose our keys, we might lose our way, we might lose our memories, we might lose our ever-loving minds; but we—all of who we are as beloved children of God—we are never lost.
Each episode, I share that on a soul level, we are called to remember. But our call to remember is an invitation, not a prerequisite; and our inevitable spiritual forgetfulness will never be a dealbreaker. Not with God. There is no room for shame or guilt or pressure. The circumstances of life will cause us to forget. We will be distracted. We will grow anxious. There will be times when we forget who we are and who we’re called to be. There will be times when we lose sight of who God is, and God’s presence with us in the middle of it all. But we are not lost. Because when we can’t remember, we are remembered. When we don’t know, we are deeply known. When we fall apart, we are held. When we are forgetful, God is faithful.
So today, if you forget, know that you are remembered. And may God’s presence and faithfulness remind us of God’s memory, where we are loved. Where we are safe. Where we matter. Where we belong.