Remember, Then Rejoice!

October 5, 2010

Dear St. Paul’s Family,

“Aaaahhhhh.”

Lately, that’s been my contented response to this week’s glorious weather. The skies have been a deep shade of sapphire blue, unblemished by even a wisp or puff of clouds. The absence of humidity evokes a buoyancy in the air and a lightness to my step. The temperatures have been Goldilocks perfect – not too cold, not too hot. Just right. And best of all, the rest of the week’s forecast looks to be just as dreamy.

I’ve come to believe that commenting on the weather is a stalwart feature of the Iowan psyche. We depend on it, base our local economy on it, and arrange our schedules by it. We even begin our conversations with it. “Don't knock the weather,” Kin Hubbard once wrote. “Nine-tenths of the people couldn't start a conversation if it didn't change once in a while.”

One such conversation I had was with John Chalstrom, back in February. He caught me in my driveway, shoveling snow for what was the hundredth time last winter. We had experienced three blizzards in as many weekends, with rising snow mounds and torrential winds. It had become impossible to see out my front door, and my wife had to cancel more than a handful of classes.

“You know what’s crazy?” John asked me. “Later this year, when the temperatures are in the seventies, and the skies are blue, we’re going to forget all about how awful the weather has been.”

Well, not quite. When the summer rolled around, we had flash floods in June, a 100 mph tornado in July, followed by oppressive humidity in August. Not even the stunning weather of this past week could eclipse the memories of an entire year’s trauma. However, remembering all those episodes has made me – and I suspect all of us – much more grateful for the days we are enjoying this week.

That’s the power of memory, isn’t it? As much as we’d like to forget the pain in the past, we simply cannot. But viewing those sad episodes in retrospect can illuminate the power that got us through those moments, and help us appreciate the blessings of the present. French Catholic bishop Jean-Baptiste Massieu once said, “Gratitude is the memory of the heart.” We enjoy the richness of today when we remember the sorrow of yesterday.

That’s the premise behind the healing of the ten lepers, the story from Luke that serves as our scripture lesson this Sunday. After Jesus healed them, only one returned in gratitude. “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?” he replied, clearly puzzled, but perhaps not surprised, by the poor percentage. I’m not sure he was expecting a thank-you card. He probably didn’t need his ego stroked, or any validation for a job well done. What he did know was that though the ten lepers were clean, they were not yet well. It was not until the one came back in gratitude that he experienced the full healing that Jesus intended.

We’ll further explore those nuances of healing this Sunday. But for now, let’s take up the call to remember and rejoice. Recording artist Steven Curtis Chapman captures this challenge in his song, “Remember Your Chains.”

There’s no one more thankful to sit at the table
Than the one who best remembers hunger’s pain
And no heart loves greater than the one that is able
To recall the time when all it knew was shame

So remember your chains
Remember the prison that once held you
Before the love of God broke through
Remember the place you were without grace
When you see where you are now
Remember your chains
And remember your chains are gone

Regardless of what kind of day you are having, let memory be your guide. Recall a time when you were lost, desperate, and confused. When panic ruled and your life was fraught with anxiety. Perhaps now would be the first time – and the best time – for you to look back on those days and say there was no way you could have gotten through it without the grace and power of God. Be the one, and not the other nine.

Then, you can face your future with gratitude and courage. For that same God that was with you then, albeit unbeknownst to you at the time, is with you still today. And, in the words of Jesus, you can “get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”

Grace and Peace,

Magrey