Of all the elements that make up our world, time has got to be the funniest. Funny, I suppose, in a ha-ha way but also funny in a “I don’t get it” way or in a “How did that happen?” way. Time flies. Time crawls. Time warps. Time jumps. Time speeds. Time slows. It appears that time is magical and can do quite the assortment of things. Recently, I’ve noticed another trick up time’s sleeve: the ability to cause forgetfulness. We’ve all been affected by it at one point or another. Time goes by and our minds are not strong enough to hold up against this corrosive attack of time. We forget details, then moments, and then before you know it we forget people and places and things!
Time is a very powerful enemy to our memories.
Which is why God tells us to write his Words and Promises on our heads, hearts, and minds. He tells us to graffiti our walls with his Words in big bold letters. He tells us to tattoo them on our bodies, wear them on our clothing, and post them in our homes. Every time we see these written reminders we will remember what God has done for us and what he is doing for us and what he promises to do. He knows that we are forgetful creatures, ever the victims of time, so he gave us careful instructions to guard our way and to make our paths straight.
It seems that I haven’t been very diligent in writing down God’s promises and actions. The walls in my room are quite bare. My forehead, blank. My heart and mind, consumed by work and worry. Slowly, time has creeped its way into my life and has made me quite the forgetful little Christ-follower. But God has heard my forgetfulness like a silent cry for help. He has come to my rescue once again.
You see, I’ve forgotten my passion for being here. After the various battles I’ve struggled my way through these past months I’ve lost sight of the vision that brought me here. Instead, my sight is solely focused on my feet trudging along on the ground. In my mission to not trip over my feet, I’ve failed to look ahead down the road and focus on why I’m even marching along! I was moving more out of habit than out of passion. I’ve become quite accustomed to Nicaragua and I’ve forgotten what a strange and fascinating place it is. I’ve forgotten how scared I was to wander around, how excited I was to see and experience new things, how curious I was to be a part of the culture here. Time has made me numb.
But these past two weeks, God gave me the chance to see Nicaragua through new eyes.
Eyes that had never before seen the quirkiness, complexity, beauty and struggles of life here. Eyes that were surprised by new sights, ears that were alert to new sounds, taste buds that came alive to new tastes. I feel very much like the blind man from the Gospels—I heard Jesus spit and then felt him place mud on my eyes and he whispered in my ear: “Go, wash and be free. See once again the joys and wonders I have placed before you! Remember, my child, and believe.” The mud fell from my eyes and a miracle has given me clear sight. I once was blind, but now I see.
I pray that I will remember the many works God has done in my life, the many miracles he has surprised me with. I pray that I will cling to the promises he has whispered into my ear and spoken into my heart. I pray that I will be diligent and write down all that he has done for me, is doing for me, and will do for me.