Remember to remember

Reflections on a green maple tree and a golden calf

Photo by Yoksel 🌿 Zok on Unsplash

I’ve got this maple tree in my front yard that I often stare at through my office window. 

It’s nearly the end of May, and the long, spindly branches have finally been fully obscured by lush green leaves. 

I was worried about our tree this spring. Throughout April, the trees in all my neighbors’ yards seemed to fill in overnight, their skeletal gray arms transforming into plush plumes of fresh life. 

Meanwhile, all our little maple had mustered was a handful of sickly looking yellow leaves on its very top branches. It wasn’t until the beginning of this month, when we had returned from a long weekend out of town, that my hope in the tree’s health was revived. One of my top priorities upon returning home was to check on the tree, so when we pulled into the driveway that Sunday afternoon, I was relieved to see that it had finally filled out about 90% of the way—crisis averted. 

So it’s ironic that I spent the better part of a month worrying about the health of this tree, yet today I can hardly remember what it was like to look outside my front window all winter and see nothing but gray dormancy.

Were there really no leaves all along? Could I see my across-the-street neighbor’s house that well? 

Last summer, I remember studying that tree and wondering if it really had lost its leaves the winter before. How could something so fertile be barren again in six short months? 

When the leaves faded into fiery red later that fall, the routine began again. How did I not remember this change happening last year? Surely there’s nothing more real, more true, than the vibrancy outside my window right now? 

How quickly we forget. How hesitant we are to remember. 

If I can be continually surprised by one of the most predictable processes that exists—the growth cycle of a common tree—what else am I forgetting? 

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Forgetfulness has always been a hallmark of God’s people. 

The story of the early Israelites and the Golden Calf in Exodus 32 is the first example that comes to mind. At this point in the story, the people of Israel have not only witnessed, but actively participated in miracles that can only be attributed to the mighty hand of the One True God, Yahweh. 

The Israelites are released from slavery in Egypt and are guided by a manifestation of God’s presence, pillars of cloud to mark their path by day that transform to pillars of fire by night. They witness the parting of the Red Sea, passing through the sea on dry ground. And God’s provision doesn’t stop there: when the Israelites reach the barren wilderness, he makes food rain down from the heavens, ensuring that his people’s basic needs will be met at every turn. 

Then, when they reach Mount Sinai, God’s presence descends powerfully and decisively on the mountain. His manifest glory is so great that boundaries must be marked off to ensure that no Israelite accidentally enters his presence unintentionally—a mistake that would necessarily result in their death. Here’s the description from Exodus 19:16-20: 

On the morning of the third day there were thunders and lightnings and a thick cloud on the mountain and a very loud trumpet blast, so that all the people in the camp trembled. Then Moses brought the people out of the camp to meet God, and they took their stand at the foot of the mountain. Now Mount Sinai was wrapped in smoke because the Lord had descended on it in fire. The smoke of it went up like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled greatly. And as the sound of the trumpet grew louder and louder, Moses spoke, and God answered him in thunder. The Lord came down on Mount Sinai, to the top of the mountain. And the Lord called Moses to the top of the mountain, and Moses went up.

These miracles (and several more not listed here) define Israel’s exodus from Egyptian slavery and journey toward the promised land, the inheritance that God swore to Abraham all the way back in Genesis 12. Yet, while surrounded by miracles, tangible manifestations of God’s faithfulness to them, the Israelites forget who it is they’re serving. 

So, while Moses is on Mount Sinai communing with God and receiving the law, the Israelites decide that they need some kind of physical object to ascribe their worship to—presumably in the shadow of the very smoke that conceals the presence of Yahweh himself. They melt down all their gold into a golden calf and begin praising it for leading them out of Egypt. Their worship is so loud, so passionate, so sustained, that Moses hears it before he even reenters the camp.

This is one of many Old Testament stories that is simply frustrating to modern readers (and maybe ancient ones too, though I can’t vouch for that perspective). How on earth could the Israelites, having seen what they’ve seen, having been where they’ve been, possibly misunderstand God this badly? 

The presumed timeline of these events adds another flavor to the story; we know that Moses was on Mount Sinai for 40 days and 40 nights. It’s assumed that the journey from the Red Sea to Sinai took 40ish days. So, in three or so months, the Israelites have already seemingly forgotten every characteristic of the God who’s revealed himself to them, instead returning to the familiar habits of idol worship likely acquired after generations of servitude and assimilation in Egypt. 

Despite their release from slavery; despite their crossing the Red Sea; despite the powerful physical manifestations of God’s presence; despite the daily provision of their most basic needs, the Israelites simply look elsewhere for their salvation. 

And, while I certainly don’t condone it, I kind of get it. 

Three months isn’t that long…but it kind of is. Three months ago it was still February. It wasn’t warm enough yet for anything to start blooming—definitely not my maple tree. The cicadas that serenade me every time I step outside were still tucked cozily underground (and I imagine resting their vocal cords for the performance of a decade). We were still many cold snaps away from the relentless humidity that’s comfortably settled over North Alabama this week. Doesn’t it already sort of feel like a world away? 

I’m not saying that what the Israelites did, how they responded to a pause in the action, was right or even defensible. I am saying that the human condition makes me prone to do the very same things. 

How often have I forgotten God’s promises to me? How often has an old truth felt like a new revelation when I was simply reminded of it? How do I avoid the sins of Israel—how do I remember to remember? 

If you’ve been a Warranted reader for awhile, you likely know where this is going: it simply takes practice. There’s no trick. There’s no hack. It’s just the unglamorous, day in, day out spiritual disciplines that train our minds to think eternally despite being bound in time.

Thankfully, we have a great cloud of witnesses whose examples we can follow. Consider this exhortation from Psalm 103. Meditate on these words and store them in your heart as a tool to help you remember who God is and how deeply he loves you. 

Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and all that is within me,
bless his holy name!
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits,
who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit,
who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
who satisfies you with good
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

The Lord works righteousness
and justice for all who are oppressed.
He made known his ways to Moses,
his acts to the people of Israel.
The Lord is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
He will not always chide,
nor will he keep his anger forever.
He does not deal with us according to our sins,
nor repay us according to our iniquities.
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
so far does he remove our transgressions from us.
As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.
For he knows our frame;
he remembers that we are dust.

As for man, his days are like grass;
he flourishes like a flower of the field;
for the wind passes over it, and it is gone,
and its place knows it no more.
But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him,
and his righteousness to children’s children,
to those who keep his covenant
and remember to do his commandments.
The Lord has established his throne in the heavens,
and his kingdom rules over all.

Bless the Lord, O you his angels,
you mighty ones who do his word,
obeying the voice of his word!
Bless the Lord, all his hosts,
his ministers, who do his will!
Bless the Lord, all his works,
in all places of his dominion.
Bless the Lord, O my soul!

From the archives:

And a recommendation:

I cannot get enough of this new release from Jon Foreman. “The light that you seek is seeking you” !!!