Lest We Forget

Remember

Have you ever walked into a room and immediately forgotten why you went there? I do—often. I move from the kitchen to the bedroom, pause, and draw a blank. Only when I return do I remember my original purpose. It frustrates me, and I get upset with myself. I also notice my younger son sometimes says, “I don’t remember you saying that,” to avoid following instructions. Memory is fragile, selective, and often unreliable. 

Yet, remembering is vital. In Perth, Australia, I learned a phrase that carries deep meaning: “Lest we forget.” Spoken on ANZAC Day and Remembrance Day, it honors the service and sacrifice of World War II veterans. Each year, people gather at dawn, pause at 11 a.m. for the Last Post, and wear or place red poppies to mark these moments in history. The purpose is simple but powerful: to remember, so that sacrifice and meaning are not lost with time. 

A similar lesson appears in the Bible. Luke, one of Jesus’ disciples, recorded an episode of forgetfulness after Jesus’ crucifixion. The women went to anoint His body, only to find the tomb empty and angels asking, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?” Then the angels said, “REMEMBER how he told you that the Son of Man... must be crucified and rise again on the third day.” At that moment, they remembered. They ran to tell the disciples, who initially thought it was a tall tale. Even Peter, seeing the empty tomb, did not remember Jesus’ words.

What a tragedy—to miss the most important event in history because they forgot what had been said.

Like the people of Perth, we must deliberately remember God’s Word. My mind may falter, but if I revisit, recite, and remind myself of His teachings daily, I will not miss the blessings of His gentle guidance until His return.

“… I will not forget Your word.”

—Psalm 119:16

In The Beginning

 “Thy word is true from the beginning, and every one of Thy righteous judgments endures forever.” — Psalms 119:160

There are some sports I really enjoy watching, and basketball is one of them. It’s a game that combines teamwork with individual skill. An NBA game is divided into four quarters of twelve minutes, but with timeouts and breaks, it usually lasts around an hour. As the clock winds down—especially in the final five seconds—we know the game is about to end, along with any remaining chance to win.

So, the beginning of a game is always exciting, full of anticipation and hope. I imagine it was something like that at the creation of the world. There must have been great wonder as God established time, formed the earth, created animals, and placed the first man and woman in the garden. What a beginning! God declared that everything He made was good.

When God said, “Let there be light,” there was light. When He commanded the earth to bring forth trees and vegetation, it happened. Everything God spoke in the beginning came into being because His word is true. What He declares is, and always will be, true.

Yet not long after this perfect start, that goodness was interrupted. Adam and Eve chose to seek the knowledge of good and evil for themselves—to be like God—rather than to trust and obey Him.

So when He told Adam and Eve that they would surely die if they ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, it could not be otherwise. Death came immediately—not physical, but spiritual. They were separated from God, who is Spirit. In choosing independence, they cut themselves off from the very source of life. What a tragedy.

Yet even in judgment, God spoke truth with hope. He declared that the serpent—Satan—would bruise the heel of Eve’s descendant, but that descendant would crush the serpent’s head—a fatal blow.

At Easter, as we remember the death and resurrection of Jesus, we are called to look back to the very beginning. What God said then remains true today. Apart from Him, there is only death—first spiritual, then physical. But Jesus is the way God has provided: to deliver us from sin and to satisfy His righteous judgment.

So what will you do with God’s Word? Will you believe it, or will you wait until the clock runs out? 

The Door

 John 10:9

There are things only children can see—things adults forget or choose not to believe. Only a few grown-ups keep that childlike sight, choosing to believe despite how strange it may seem in adulthood.

I am one of those child-adults. I still remember when I first heard of it—when I first saw it. It was unforgettable.

“Wait, what did you hear? What did you see?”

I’ll tell you. But I must start at the beginning.

As a little girl, I went wherever my parents took me—grocery stores, supermarkets, the local library, and church. Church was the most interesting place of all. I understood why we went to buy food or borrow books, but church puzzled me. Every Sunday, people sang together and then suddenly became silent when a man began to speak. They nodded as if they understood everything. I didn’t. I just waited for Sunday School.

I loved Miss Vera’s classroom. She was kind and gentle, and being there felt safe.

One Sunday morning, on our way to church, something happened. My father—usually a careful driver—lost control of the car. We swerved toward a tree and missed it by what felt like an inch. “Help us, Lord!” my mother cried. The car stopped. Dad was pale; Mom was speechless.

The first thing Dad did was take Mom’s hand and mine and pray, “Lord, thank You for helping us when we needed You most. We praise You in the name of Your Son, Jesus. Amen.”

I knew he wasn’t speaking to us—but to someone else. I had heard about God, yet I wondered: Who was this Lord? Who was His Son? Why could no one see Him? What did He look like? What did He sound like?

That morning in Sunday School, Miss Vera showed us a poster shaped like a door. She read, “I am the door. If anyone enters through Me, he shall be saved… and find green pastures.”

She explained that Jesus, the Son of God, was the door—not one that leads to another room, but one that leads to a place no one has ever fully seen: a place of peace, where sorrow and hate cannot enter. But to go through that door, we must believe in Him and turn away from sin—lies, hatred, dishonesty, disobedience.

I was astonished. Jesus is a door? How could that be? Yet more than confusion, I felt longing. I wanted to see that place.

That night, I asked my mother why Jesus was called a door. She smiled and said He is also light and love. He came to lead us out of darkness, to save us, and to give us eternal life. We prayed together, and I fell asleep thinking about light shining in the dark—because darkness had always frightened me.

That night I dreamed.

I stood in a long hallway filled with doors. Behind each one were rooms full of toys and sweets. I wanted to stay, but I was searching for Jesus—the door. I couldn’t find Him. I began to cry.

Then I heard a voice: “Come, child. This is the way.”

I followed the voice until I reached a small wooden door—smaller than all the others. It seemed too small for me to enter. But I remembered: I must believe. I turned the knob.

Light burst forth—brighter than the sun. Beauty beyond words. And there He was.

He took my hand and said, “This is yours forever. I will always be with you. Do you believe?”

“I do,” I answered.

I woke with a peace and joy I had never known. I told my parents everything. They rejoiced and thanked Jesus for loving us enough to take our place on the cross.

Years passed. I grew older. Sometimes I was tempted to dismiss the dream as just a dream. But then I remembered: Jesus said we must become like children to enter His kingdom. A child does not analyze—she believes.

So I choose to believe.

I choose to trust the One who loves me so deeply that He gave His life for mine, who opened the door to heaven and calls me by name.

And you—have you heard His voice? Have you found the door?

If not, seek it. Listen carefully. You will hear your name.

Look for the door.

 "I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture". John 10:9