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Psalm 25:1-9 1 To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul; my God, I put my trust in you; 2 Let none who look to you be put to shame; 3 Show me your ways, O Lord, and teach me your paths. 4 Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; 5 Remember, O Lord, your compassion and love, 6 Remember not the sins of my youth and my transgressions; 7 Gracious and upright is the Lord; 8 He guides the humble in doing right 9 All the paths of the Lord are love and faithfulness |
How would you like to be remembered?
A friend attended a retreat where participants were invited to write a brief autobiography, viewed through three different lenses. They were to write their story as hero, as victim, and as learner. The suggestion is that the ways we tell our own story, the ways we wish to be remembered, indeed our sense of identity depend on our point of view. The point of view we choose shapes the ways we think and behave. To those three categories, I might add a fourth. I haven’t settled on the word to capture this category. Perhaps mistake-maker (the most generous option) or screw-up, transgressor or sinner.
The psalm printed above, read on the first Sunday of Advent, talks about how God might remember us. The author of the psalm makes the following request to the Holy One: Remember me not according to the sins of my youth (and we all have those). Rather remember me according to your love.
Implicit in that psalm is the idea that while it matters how we regard ourselves, a bit of that has to do with the way we believe God regards us. For many people raised in religious contexts, the assumption is that God is scorekeeper, a slightly grouchy one at that. It’s most vividly brought to mind by a Gary Larson cartoon. God sits at the computer. On the screen, a grand piano plummets towards unsuspecting pedestrian. God at the keyboard is about to hit the “Smite” button.
When we imagine God regarding us in that way, it makes for an anxious approach to life. Ironically, it means we begin to regard other people in that same way, keeping score, all the while treasuring resentments and infringements as if they were trophies.
But if we can believe that God’s overriding regard for us is one of compassion, we find a different way forward, marked by freedom and joy. The good news of our faith is that while the Holy One knows our stories, knows us each as hero, victim, learner and sinner, the overriding way the Holy One regards us is as beloved child. Maybe that should be the fifth option. The challenge of our faith is to ask whether we can really believe that we are the beloved child in such a way that it shapes the way we live.
Savanna Guthrie, of TODAY show fame, recently wrote a book entitled Mostly What God Does. She is not only an accomplished television presence but also a person of faith. In her book, she makes this simple point: Mostly what God does is love you. In the intro, she writes:
If we could believe this, really believe this, how different would we be? How different would our lives be? How different would our world be? If you ever struggle with your connection to God (or whether you even feel connected to a faith at all!), you’re not alone. Especially in our modern world, with its relentless, never-ending news cycle, we can all grapple with such questions. Do we do that alone, with despair and resignation? Or do we make sense of it with God, and with hope? In these uncertain times, could believing in the power of divine love make the most sense?
If we can embrace the idea that God knows all the ways we’ve messed up and still looks on us graciously, then we may well find ourselves a bit more compassionate and forgiving to people around us. St. Paul captured that idea in his letter to the Romans. He wrote: Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you.
As we begin a new year, take stock of the ways you imagine you are regarded by God.
Join with the psalmist who prays to be remembered with compassion. Join with the thief on the cross who asks Jesus: Remember me when you come into your kingdom. Offer the prayer of commendation from the Burial Office which speaks of how we might each and all be remembered: Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming.
-Jay Sidebotham
