Not Mere Memories: God’s Sovereign Purposes in Every Season

It’s been quite a year in our church body. There have been new families who have joined our church family, lots of new babies and even grandbabies, and new life in Christ as we witnessed and celebrated baptisms. But it hasn’t been without its share of suffering and loss and grief. As individuals, as families, as brothers and sisters in Christ who are an integral part of this local church family, we have witnessed suffering together on a magnified scale. Amongst other hardships, we have seen cancer after cancer diagnosis. Funeral after funeral in just half a year. I have clung to the hands of a dear older sister in Christ, who spiritually mothered me so well, as we reminisced, prayed, laughed and cried as she boldly anticipated glory. Hardship after hardship was announced nearly every Sunday morning during prayer time, seemingly culminating in the diagnosis, battle, and ultimate loss of Sophia, our pastor’s daughter, and a cherished friend. 

As a body, we have grieved, observed, and comforted others who are grieving. But we have also seen what it looks like for a Christian to suffer well. For a pastor to suffer well. For a mom to suffer well. For a family to suffer well. For a church to suffer well. We’ve had a front row view of Christians persevering. Staying in the race. Fixing their eyes on their one true hope in life and death. We have also had a front row view of brothers and sisters coming alongside those who have suffered, bolstering them in strength and in number. They have been the hands and feet of Christ as they have ministered so well to those who keep marching forward in faith, but are carrying overwhelming loads. The ship has stayed stable in the storm. Steady as she goes, with Christ at the helm. 

One day, I found my thoughts fixated on time. Stopping time. Going back in time. Being in a Marvel movie where I jump to an alternative timeline. One where friends never moved away. And more friends won’t move away. Relationships never got messy. Big kids were still sweet, tiny babies or toddlers. Sophie never had cancer.

But time keeps moving, doesn’t it? And God has ordained many things throughout time that are hard. Even painful.

I stood in my backyard one day, alone. I stared at the patch of grass where Sophie once stood. I saw her there. I heard her voice and her sarcasm and her laughter as she played cornhole with Nick. And just as quickly as the memory flooded, it left. I was alone again with nothing but the wind and some noisy chickens. I wept and longed for it to be real again. 

“Is this all I have now? Memories?” I asked myself, despondently. Though precious and cherished, the idea of memories suddenly felt hollow and inaccessible. How can life change so swiftly from tangible to intangible? From experiencing someone or something, to merely remembering what was? Is all we have of the past just pictures and memories? 

Of course, the answer is no. Our lives are not merely passive moments in history. They are not just a succession of temporary experiences that are stored as short or long-term memories. They are not just 5x7 photographs that make us laugh or smile or feel sentimental. 

The past is just as real as the present is and the future will be. And it had great purposes. The relationships we have had with people who have moved away or passed away, the experiences we have had, the tinier versions of our children we used to know with different interests and chubbier fingers- these things transcend far beyond memories. They have shaped us. Grown us. Conformed us into the image of the Son. No. Not just memories. They are the very people and circumstances, in that season, that God has chosen to use for my good. And your good. And the glory of God above all else. 

I have to be careful not to long for things in a backwards direction. As a younger mom, I looked forward to new seasons. Seasons where I wasn’t getting up in the middle of the night to nurse or change a diaper. Seasons where a child would finally be fully potty trained, or take a shower all by themselves. But I’m finding that the older I get, and the more things change, I just want the things that once were. 

The funny thing is, I’m in a “once were.” A future version of myself will long for these exact, precious moments. Future me will long for enjoying my children at these exact ages. For friendships I have right now. For being able to pick up my phone anytime to FaceTime my parents. For being in a “baby stage” with at least one child, celebrating every milestone and stepping on toys that sing to me the same, familiar, bouncy tune. What God has for me, today, is good. Even if it is not the same as what used to be. 

“Time is a thief,” they say. I disagree. That would presuppose that we are the rightful owners to all circumstances in our lives, and that time maliciously steals what is “ours,” taking and never giving.

We are not being robbed.

Family, relationships, circumstances, time itself- all belong to the Lord and are clay in His hand, not mine. Time cannot steal what is not ultimately mine.

And time is not the enemy, taking at will to our detriment. Time with a beloved person, in a beloved place, or in a beloved situation has been a gift, regardless of the quantity. 

So I can remember the past. I can look at the photos of little, tiny Hallie helping to spoon-feed baby Alice. I can watch the videos of Caleb praying as a 2-year-old and slapping a watermelon with joy. I can cherish memories of friends who have left us. But I need to do so in the context of gratitude and praise for what God chose to give me in those seasons. My longing needs to remain forward-facing, for the sure hope of glory.

In light of this, be encouraged that you are a different person today than you were a year ago. This has been a season of people and circumstances that God has put in your life for a purpose. Those things may stay tangible, or they may morph and be placed into your treasured, secret vault of memories. But by God’s grace, you have been changed and molded in formative, important, and eternal ways. Count it all joy, and full steam ahead.

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Debbie Duarte (BS, Indiana University; DPT, University of Indianapolis) is a pastor's wife at Parkside Bible Fellowship in Fallon, NV. She is wife to Stephen and homeschooling mother to four.

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