“Remember.” – God (like, everywhere in the Bible)
Remembering is one of those things the Lord commands us repeatedly. Like many things a parent teaches His kids, He repeats it because He knows we’re going to have a hard time doing it. A few days or years go by, and we so easily forget the big things we saw Him do. The memories are still there, but distant, like they’re packed away loosely in a box somewhere in the shed; we don’t often display them on our walls, and we have to dig them out when we need them.
This issue came up in our recent home church discussion.
“What are you remembering to remember?” our pastor asked the group.
After a week of gut-punches I was remembering quite a bit, but I didn’t know exactly how to express it and didn’t speak up. We’d had technical glitches with the books we’re trying to finish up. I’d gotten nowhere in arranging interviews for a new book I’m trying to write. Sales were flat. Challenges abounded and I was just trying to keep a bold face throughout the week.
Then, the kicker.
We were already dealing with one kid with a broken arm when my wife texted me that his older brother was likely facing a major surgery. I put down my phone and began whining to God that I loved Him but this week kind of sucked. I probably sounded like Shasta in A Horse and His Boy complaining to Aslan about how unlucky he was to have encountered so many lions along the way, unaware he was talking to the very lion he had feared.
It was a long, rough week and just when we thought we might be getting a little breathing room financially, we were hit with this new gem. Another surgery. Another child with an uncertain medical future. More bills for money we didn’t have.
“What are you remembering to remember?”
I didn’t know how to respond. Was I remembering fear? I didn’t think so. Was I remembering struggle and uncertainty? Yes, but that wasn’t my focus.
Then it clicked. As I sat sipping my coffee and listening to others give testimonies, I remembered something. I remembered His provision. I remembered how He saved two children from the fire, and – like the boy who’d offered up his lunch to Jesus – we had gotten to be a part of the story.
Back in 2015 God led us to adopt two special-needs children from Eastern Europe. I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but the severity of their situations was such that had we not followed His calling, one of them would be dead, and the other would probably be living a life of sex slavery. That’s not an exaggeration; it’s a ghastly reality that many are now learning about. Nobody in that part of the world was going to pay the money required to make my son healthy. Why would they when his organs would have been worth hundreds of thousands of dollars on the black market? We stepped forward and the battle began. That’s what happens when you engage.
Bringing them home was the first of many challenges. We needed close to $40,000, and living paycheck to paycheck with a little money in savings meant God would have to provide the money. So we trusted He would provide it and we set out doing what we could. We held church fundraisers, accepted donations, rocked a bake sale, and racked our brains about how to get more funding. We decided to try a major garage sale and were blessed when over 40 families donated goods to sell.
We spent weeks stacking up an inventory of stuff in our garage, and in short order I had enough product to open a thrift store. We advertised the heck out of it and ended up with a line of cars down the street waiting for 8:00am start time. We were busy for two days selling stuff and collecting checks from folks who just wanted to contribute. By Sunday night when the final tally was registered, we had raised around $5000. We high-fived and then gazed at our property, strewn with unpurchased products I’d have to find a home for in the coming week. We set to work cleaning up but by midnight the work wasn’t done, the kids were in bed, and my wife was too exhausted to continue. I told her she should clock-out for the night; I’d finish up my own.
It was a bittersweet night and I wrestled with the outcome. Five thousand dollars from a garage sale was a blessing I should have been ecstatic about. I was grateful, but as I tried to figure out what to do with all the stuff in my garage, I couldn’t help despairing that it was nonetheless a drop in the bucket for what we still needed.
I piled up seven or eight old televisions nobody wanted on the side of my garage, figuring maybe I could use them as projectiles for the trebuchet I always intended to build. Hauling the TVs reminded me that a friend had messaged me earlier asking if we had any old VCRs left over from the garage sale. Hers had just crapped out, and in 2015 it was getting hard to find a store still selling new ones.
So I messaged her back.
Sure. I’ve got three. I’ll bring one to work tomorrow.
I went over the stack of cast-off VCRs, chose the one that looked like it was in the best shape, and set it aside to take to her the next day. As I carried it to my truck, I started talking to God.
How are we going to do this? I asked Him. Thank You for this weekend, but this just isn’t enough money. And now I’ve got all this junk to deal with too. I’m so tired. How is this is going to work out?
As I got to my driveway, I heard something rattling around inside the VCR.
Great, I scoffed. This one’s broken.
I almost threw it onto the driveway in frustration but tempered my anger and turned to take it to the overflowing dumpster. On a whim I shook the VCR, curious about what was broken inside it. I held the dispenser door open and shook the VCR to see what might fall out – probably something plastic, maybe a toy. I held out my other hand to catch whatever it was, and rattled it again. Into my hand fell a diamond wedding ring. *
Vince, He said, I’ve got treasures buried in junk VCRs. Just open your hands and let me fill them.
Tears welled in my eyes, and I knew in that moment He was going to take care of everything. Eight years later I know He’s still got this.
“What are you remembering to remember?” my pastor had asked. I remembered the ring.
What do you need to remember? What memorial stones are standing proudly on the side of a hard road you once traveled? Go back and look at them. Lean forward and touch them. Rub the dust away and polish them as God intended them to shine as testaments, for you and for others.
As I sit typing this, I’m remembering a season when the bills were insurmountable, the task exhausting, and lives were on the line. I’m also remembering how He chose to meet me on a dark evening in a desperate frame of mind. And I remember how He said He understands, and that He’d take care of it. And He promises to do it again.
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If you’d like to know more about our adoption story, my wife’s book Risk the Ocean tells the tale in a hilarious and touching way. It’s now available for preorder here and releases September 19th.
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