The power of remembering

It’s easy for me to trust God when life is easy, but when a major decision gives me knots in my stomach, too often I realize I’ve only given mental assent to what I’ve been taught about God’s trustworthiness.

Putting those teachings into practice is an entirely different matter.

Last week I told you about a time I was at a defining moment. If we were to join Wycliffe, as “faith missionaries,” my husband and I would not receive a paycheck. Instead, we’d depend on God to form a team of individuals and churches who’d pledge to support us financially.

But we, and all missionaries, must deal with this:

Those who say they’ll support missionaries

don’t always follow through.

That meant Dave and I would be giving up a steady, predictable income. And even if everyone who promised to send money did so, we’d be living at only 65% of what we were accustomed to.

We humans are so used to being self-sufficient—trusting in our own wits and education and hard work to make a living. But moving to Africa would strip us of our usual worldly safety nets. We would have to trust God.

So, before I was willing to join Wycliffe, the big question I had to ask myself—and answer—was this: Could I—would I—trust God to meet our needs despite an unpredictable income?

Deciding to trust God—really trust Him—can be a huge battle, even though we have His many promises in the Bible.

So, at my critical moment, I had to decide: Would I apply what I’d heard about God’s trustworthiness and promises and provisions?

Even if our human supporters let us down,

or even if Dave and I had an emergency expenditure,

would I live out, in practical everyday ways,

my trust in God?

My first reaction was to hold back, to pull back, to question whether He would really be trustworthy.

A messy internal battle waged. Ongoing doubts and fears tormented me.

But I have learned that

the key to being willing

to trust God is this:

We must remember

God’s faithfulness

and help in the past.

“Listen to me . . . I have cared for you since you were born. Yes, I carried you before you were born. I will be your God throughout your lifetime—until your hair is white with age. I made you, and I will care for you. . . . Remember the things I have done in the past. For I alone am God! I am God and there is none like me” (Isaiah 46:3-4, 8, NCV). 

“Remember how the Lord your God led you. . .”  (Deuteronomy 8:2).

“You saw with your own eyes what the Lord did. . . . Be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them fade from your heart as long as you live” (Deuteronomy 4:3, 9, NIV).

Yes, the key is remembering—but we don’t remember well!

Mike Metzger addresses that: 

Many churches have forgotten the premium that the historic Judeo-Christian tradition placed on remembrance . . . and recalling the right things. The ‘great sin’ of the Old Testament was forgetfulness (at least it is the most recurrent offense). ‘Remember’ is the most frequent command in the Old Testament. (Clapham Memo, January 19, 2007, “Back and Forth,” by Mike Metzger)

We too often forget what we’re supposed to remember!

That means we must train ourselves—discipline ourselves—to remember how God has helped us in the past.

And so, when faced with whether to trust God with our finances in Africa, I had a powerful memory to fall back on, a memory of God’s faithfulness to us in a unique way.

Let me tell you about it.

The following is an excerpt from my new memoir, Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir about three years our family spent working with Wycliffe in Lomalinda, a mission outpost in Colombia, South America, living on a tight budget. This event occurred in February 1978, fifteen years before our move to Africa.

I trudged up [the] dusty-red . . . hill at 7:45 on a February morning, sweat dripping down my forehead and back. As I hiked, I wondered, Will this be the day?

I looked forward to reaching the top and turning left toward my office, stopping along the way to check the mail. I usually enjoyed peeking into our cubbyhole, hoping for letters from loved ones in the States but, that day, like so many recently, my stomach knotted at the thought of what I might find. Will this be the day we learn the bad news? I reached into our mail slot. Yes, this was the day. My throat went dry as I unfolded our financial statement.

Two months had passed since Dave fell mysteriously ill with his kidney problem and incurred a $400 bill for flights to Bogotá, housing, and medical expenses—a huge sum for us. Like everyone in Lomalinda, we lived on donations from people back home which they sent to our California office. Some donors sent money every month, others only occasionally, so we had a sporadic income. Our budget was complicated because it took two months to receive our statement and learn how much money we had. We never had a surplus, and certainly not an extra $400 for doctor bills. We weren’t acquainted with Wycliffe’s policies about debt, and I worried and wondered, After we cover medical bills, how will we pay for food and housing?

I stood in the post office, financial statement in hand. Unfolding the printout, I skimmed the list of donors. I spotted a name I’d not seen on our list before—Best, Bill and Marion. I’d grown up in their church and babysat their kids a few times but hadn’t seen them for years. My eyes ran across the page to see how much they’d sent: $400, the exact amount of the doctor bills.

Wait a minute, I said to myself, Dave incurred those costs two months ago. I checked the date their money arrived in California. Dave got sick just hours later. I fought tears. How could this have happened?

The Bible says God knows our needs before we ask and will answer even before we call out for help [Matthew 6:8]. Even before Dave’s illness, before we knew we’d have a need, God had worked in the Bests’ hearts to meet it.

Now, I know He doesn’t promise to solve our problems even before we know about them. He says He knows what we need and that He will answer, yet His answer might be, “Wait a while.” It’s always the “wait” that worries me, the conspicuous time gap between the need and the meeting of it. Sometimes He must work in us, and maybe in others, to ready us for His answer. When His time is right, He provides. During those months, I had no idea how or when He would answer, and that troubled me. Little did I know He had already answered.

That day in the middle of South America’s plains, God felt so near it seemed I could see His face up close, I could feel His breath. Right there in that post office. (from Chapter 25, Please, God, Don’t Make Me Go: A Foot-Dragger’s Memoir, by Linda K. Thomas)

“Call upon Me in the day of trouble;

I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me.”

Psalm 50:15