When the LORD your God brings you into the land he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to give you—a land with large, flourishing cities you did not build, houses filled with all kinds of good things you did not provide, wells you did not dig, and vineyards and olive groves you did not plant—then when you eat and are satisfied, be careful that you do not forget the LORD, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.

When I was teaching high school English, I told my students, “you’ll remember this better if you write it down,” not because I love writing but because I was told the very same thing. And it happens to be true. Just Google, “the effects of writing,” and everything from blog posts to Psychology Today will support the claim that writing down information better helps our brains retain it. It works for life experiences, too. Many of my memories stay vivid because I’ve written about them.

‍

In the Old Testament, the Israelites were given a lot of information and experienced a lot of life. Yet, they did not wander the wilderness with notebooks and pens in their satchels. Instead, they preserved vital information and memorialized notable life-moments by telling stories.

‍

Or, stacking stones.

‍

In the first few chapters of the Book of Joshua, Joshua leads the Israelites across the Jordan River on dry ground. When the last person climbs out of the empty riverbed, the Lord says to Joshua, “choose twelve men from among the people, one from each tribe, and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan, from right where the priests are standing, and carry them over with you and put them down at the place where you stay tonight” (Joshua 4:2-3).

‍

Picture a river cut clean by a pathway of bone-dry sediment and stone. In the middle of that river the priests stand still, holding the ark of the covenant, which is the reason the “water from upstream stopped flowing” and was “piled up in a heap a great distance away” (Joshua 3:16). Before the priests leave the middle of the river, twelve men are asked to take twelve stones before the waters can once again flood over them. “These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever” (Joshua 4:7).

‍

They know their children and grandchildren will ask about these stones; they know these stones will forever remind them of the amazing things God did that day.

Stones and stories, both spoken and written…visual and/or mental reminders…I find that a good mixture of both of these invite me into the spiritual practice of remembrance.

‍

It might be a heart-shaped seashell discovered as I was praying. It might be the painted image of the mountainous valley where I experienced significant spiritual growth. It might be a handful of stories of God’s faithfulness written down or shared with friends and family.

‍

Jesus understood the importance of remembrance. “And as they were eating, he took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to them, and said, ‘Take; this is my body.’ And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, and they all drank of it. And he said to them, ‘This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many’” (Mark 14:22-24).

‍

Because if we don’t stop to remember, if we don’t mark those moments of God’s movement in our lives, we forget. We find ourselves in, “a land with large, flourishing cities you did not build, houses filled with all kinds of good things you did not provide, wells you did not dig, and vineyards and olive groves you did not plant” (Deuteronomy 6:10-11), and we forget God. We forget it is he who builds us up, it is he who provides, it is he who makes a way and causes us to bear fruit.

‍

May we not forget!

Dearest Lord, you do amazing things every day. May we take up the stones, write down the details, and share the stories of your might and mercy, not only so that others will ask, but so that we might remember. And Lord, you tell us to “be still and know you are God.” As we enter a season of busyness, help us to slow down, to really see you moving in our midst, and to see the signposts of remembrance already established in our lives. Help us remember. In Jesus’ name, amen.