Of 52
Forget
Verb: put out of one’s mind; cease to think of or consider.
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Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs (1 Corinthians 13:4–5, NIV).
Growing up, I was a rambunctious child, and I have the scars to prove it. One of the earliest scars that I’ve gotten is from when I was about four years old. My mother worked a number of part-time jobs, and she’d often bring my brother and me to work with her because we couldn’t really afford daycare. One of her jobs was working at a stationary store, and my brother and I would have to wait in the back storage/break room until her shift was over.
It was a boring space, so my brother and I would have to come up with games to keep ourselves occupied. One time, we had a competition to see who could jump the highest. We found a folding chair to jump off of, and when it was my turn, I jumped, and the chair simultaneously folded, and I lost my balance and ended up landing hard on the back of the chair. To this day — over two decades later — I have a dent on my body where I had made contact with the chair that always reminds me of that day.
As a child, scars like these were fearful reminders to be careful, but as I grew older, I started being able to look back at these memories and — although they had been so painful in the moment — chuckle to myself. The way I see them now is that I might not have been the wisest child, but I do have some proof that I was pretty fearless, and that fearless part of childlikeness within me is something that I never want to lose.
It’s interesting that when we revisit memories of physically painful experiences, we can’t exactly re-experience that physical pain. I only remember that when I had landed on the back of the chair, it was extremely painful, but I can’t feel that exact pain again. It’s like my body has forgotten the feeling of pain, but it does remember the impact of the pain. Evidence of this is that I’ve never jumped off the back of a folding chair ever again.
It’s also interesting that when I revisit emotionally painful experiences, I can often re-experience that pain. If I think hard enough on my memories of feeling afraid and unsafe, I can almost feel the same fear throughout my body. Everything tenses up, I can feel the queasiness in my stomach, and it gets hard to breathe. If physical pain is easily forgotten, then why does emotional pain linger for so long?
If we peruse through the Bible, we can find many people who were afflicted by emotional pain. There’s Joseph, who was betrayed by his own brothers. Hannah was tormented daily by Peninnah. Naomi tasted loss so bitter that she asked to be called, “Marah”. Yet, so many of these people came out of their pain rejoicing and even forgetting their sorrows (Genesis 41:51, 1 Samuel 2:1–10, Ruth 4:14–15). I’m beginning to think that this goes to show that some things are best left to be forgotten. There are certain things to remember and certain things to forget.
In Scripture, there are numerous commands to remember. People were commanded to recite and remember God’s law. Holidays and rituals were established to help people to remember events of the past. The command was to practice remembrance so that God would not be forgotten. So, on the flip side, there must be things that we must forget so that God would be remembered. After all, we can’t possibly remember every single little detail of our lives. We let go of some things so that we can remember the important things.
But, forgetting painful emotional experiences isn’t something that we can force upon ourselves. It seems like if we force ourselves to forget, we’re choosing to ignore or suppress existing problems. Forgetfulness shouldn’t be used to try to make a problem disappear. If we do that, we end up living in a numb and delusional fantasy world.
If anything, forgetfulness seems to be more of a natural thing that happens when we choose to surrender our painful experiences to God. Forgetfulness isn’t willful ignorance. I’m not choosing to turn a blind eye to my pain. Rather, forgetfulness seems to follow surrender.
For almost the past decade, I’ve been working on letting go of painful experiences that I’ve had with religious organizations. After my eyes were opened to seeing how I was becoming and acting like the very people who had hurt me, I was finally willing to let go of the pain I had been clutching and let the healing process begin.
After years of work, I can still feel some pain when I revisit past experiences, but I will say that there are many memories that used to trigger pain that no longer do so. As I’ve surrendered these things to God and asked for healing, it’s like I naturally started forgetting some of the hurt. I’m able to look back at some memories, and although they make me feel sad, the forgotten pain enables me to see them more clearly from different perspectives. I’m therefore able to remember how God was still faithfully with me in the midst of sorrow.
When I choose not to hold onto the pain any longer, I’m no longer letting it justify my bitterness. As I relinquish my pain to God, I begin forgetting the feeling through the exchange for healing, and what remains is remembering the effect of the pain or the lessons that I’ve learned from it. It seems like the good kind of forgetfulness cannot be forced. Instead, forgetfulness is a sign that God’s healing is at work.
But, the work doesn’t ever seem to end in this lifetime. To this day, I still have pain that I choose to hold onto because it justifies my anger towards people who hurt me. The logic is that holding onto these records of wrong justifies me in feeling angry, bitter, and vengeful towards them. Don’t get me wrong — anger is not a bad emotion. However, when unbridled and not surrendered to God, it ultimately leads to self-destruction. In my case, when I refuse to surrender these records of wrong, I become lost in a loop of lies that play like a broken record repeating the same condemning message over and over again — that I’m severely broken, that bitterness and hate are all that I can amount to, and these people who hurt me are completely to blame.
On this side of eternity, we will always be a work in progress. We cannot force ourselves to forget, but we can always choose to let go. That small choice, no matter how begrudgingly it’s been made, can be that mustard seed of faith that sets us free. As we practice the art of identifying and letting go of things that make us forget God while clinging onto things that help us to remember Him, we will see that God is faithful on His end as He works to completion to transform us into His beautiful masterpieces.
Just a note: A lot of my reflections have been prompted by a book I’ve been reading — What Happens when Women Walk in Faith: Trusting God takes you to Amazing Places by Lysa TerKeust. I have no affiliations or connections to this book or author. It’s just a book I’m enjoying at the moment. :)
