The cycles of forgetfulness end with the coming of Jesus. Jesus is the God-man who remembers. Like our first parents in the garden and like Israel in the wilderness, Jesus is tempted by the devil so what is in his heart can be seen (Matt. 4:1; see Deut. 8:2). At every turn, Jesus invokes the true wisdom of God in response to the false wisdom of Satan. The memorized words of God in Scripture are the means by which Jesus counteracts the lies he hears from the tempter. And in facing the devil in this way, he succeeds where Adam and Eve failed. He remembers what Israel forgot.
We are invited into the same victory through remembrance. One thing we all must remember is our baptism. The Father’s words to Jesus at his baptism are also God’s words to us as we are found in him: “This is my beloved [child], with whom I am well pleased” (Matt. 3:17). All Christian maturity finds its root in being a beloved child of God. When we forget that, when we work for our salvation rather than from our salvation, things go haywire. More broadly, we must also engage in the continual hearing of the Word of God. “Faith comes from hearing,” the apostle Paul says (Rom. 10:17). And this is not a onetime hearing; Paul writes to the Corinthian church to remind them of the gospel they have already heard and received (1 Cor. 15:1). Biblical truths need repeating because we are prone to forget. When we hear the Word repeatedly and remember it, we can be “transformed by the renewal of [our] mind[s], that by testing [we] may discern what is the will of God” (Rom. 12:2). On Romans 12, Charry comments, “For Paul, mental transformation required for excellent living derives from the Greek observation that knowing goodness precedes being good.”8 That’s why Paul directs church leaders to preach the Word (2 Tim. 4:2) and “insist on these things” (Titus 3:8): from the truth flow good works.
God creates in truth. Humanity falls by the deception of lies. We continue to forget the truth. Jesus comes to us embodying the truth in himself. The church is founded on the truth of Christ and instructs Jesus’s disciples by telling the gospel story over and over again, every week. A key to salvation history is remembering that salvation history. To remember the truth presumes we know it already. But because we forget, we need to be reminded. Rightly remembering leads to obedience.
THE SUPREMACY OF THE WORD OF GOD
Here is the truth: God speaks. And when God speaks, things happen. Pay attention.
Truth is embedded in the cosmic story and even in the way the Hebrew Scriptures (meaning the Old Testament books) are put together. When Jesus refers to the Hebrew Scriptures, he calls them “the Law and the Prophets” or “Moses and the Prophets” (Matt. 5:17; Luke 24:27). This Hebrew grouping of books is different from the grouping of books in most Protestant Old Testaments. The grouping called the Law (or Pentateuch) is the same: Genesis through Deuteronomy. The Prophets section includes Joshua through Kings (according to the Protestant order) as well as what Christians know as the prophetic books, except for Daniel. The Writings grouping has everything else: the Wisdom books (Job through Song of Songs), Lamentations, Daniel, Ruth, Esther, Ezra–Nehemiah, and Chronicles. The order of the books within these groupings was not fixed in the beginning, when the books were first completed, but it is nevertheless enlightening to consider the books that were eventually, in the tradition of Judaism, placed first in each of the groupings.
The first book of the Law, in the Hebrew order as in the Protestant order, is Genesis. In Genesis 1, God creates the universe from nothing. He speaks words into the void, and creation starts emerging. From the divine mind, words go forth. By his speech he forms the formless space: day and night, waters above and waters below, land and water (days 1–3). And then, by his Word, he fills the space he has formed: sun and moon in the heavens, birds in the sky, fish in the water, animals on the land (days 4–6). He forms and fills the formless and empty space. His speech holds creative power. Then God gives the first humans commands to remember for their flourishing (Gen. 1:22; 2:16–17). If they rightly remember, they will reside in peace and joy and life. But as we have seen, things go haywire.
The Prophets section begins with Joshua. In this book there’s a great transition. Moses will not lead the people into the promised land. Joshua steps into the leadership void, and Moses instructs Joshua this way: “Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go” (Josh. 1:9). But before that, Moses says, “This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success” (1:8). At a great turning point in salvation history, the mantle of leadership requires devotion and meditation on the Word of God. Success hinges on meditation. Don’t forget these words.
The next major division of the Hebrew Bible, the Writings, begins with the Psalms. Psalm 1 outlines the way to blessing: meditation on the law day and night (v. 2). The one who meditates on the law “is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither” (v. 3). The words of God are life-giving and soul-sustaining. Remember that. Meditate on the words. Know them. Don’t forget them.
The Psalms consistently appeal to the goodness of the law, statutes, testimonies, and words of God. The longest of the Psalms, 119, is a poem meditating on, treasuring, appreciating, and loving the commands and the words of God. It is an acrostic poem in which every letter of the Hebrew alphabet begins a stanza. So, the first line of verses 1–8 start with aleph (the Hebrew a), and the first line of verses 9–16 start with bet (the Hebrew b). One really has to love the commandments of God to write a poem with 176 verses and that much intentionality! But the psalmist wants us to take time and see that the law of God is worth meditating on day and night. Don’t forget the truths of God.
Psalm 19 extols the law of God as being “perfect,” “sure,” “right,” “pure,” “clean,” and “true” (vv. 7–9). The testimony of the Lord revives the soul, makes the simple wise, rejoices the heart, enlightens the eyes, and endures forever. Who doesn’t want that? The commandments of God are more precious than gold and sweeter than honey. In Ezekiel 3, when the prophet is told to eat the scroll, he describes the words of God in the same way: “It was in my mouth as sweet as honey” (Ezek. 3:3). Not only are the words from God true, but they are a treat.
The rest of the Old Testament testifies to the goodness, power, and wisdom of the words from God. Later, Ezekiel is taken to a valley of dry bones—“very dry” bones, as the text says (Ezek. 37:2). These bones have been there a long time. God asks, “Can these bones live?” and Ezekiel says, “O Lord GOD, you know” (v. 3). Then God tells Ezekiel to prophesy to these dry bones, telling them they will live. As the prophet obeys, he hears the valley start rattling. These bones, which have been dead a long time, come together, and sinews and flesh form on them. God’s Word creates, as we saw in Genesis 1. God’s prophetic speech also makes dead things come alive.
Nehemiah is a book about rebuilding the ruins of Jerusalem after the Babylonian exile. Over and over throughout the Old Testament, God comes to rescue his people as he gently prods them toward repentance. But after the people ignore and forget God long enough, the consequence is serious, though not permanent: the land that God gave to the Israelites—so they could steward it, bring shalom as in the garden, and be a “light for the nations” (Isa. 49:6) and a kingdom of priests and a holy nation (Exod. 19:6)—is taken over, and the Israelites are carried off to Babylon.
Years later, Nehemiah is sent on a task to return to the land of promise, rebuild the walls of Jerusalem, and rebuild the people of God in the place of God. During their exile, foreign countries came and destroyed their city and temple. All that they held dear has been left in ruins. Under the leadership of Nehemiah, exiled Israel makes plans for, and executes, the rebuilding of the walls to protect God’s chosen city—the city of peace, Jeru-shalom. But the city’s physical protection is not the biggest concern for Israel. The walls are a sign not of seclusion from invaders but of their identity as a distinct people. The distinction of Israel is that they have God’s revelation, the revelation of the one true God.
In the law of Moses, when he predicts the people will enter the land and establish a monarchy, Moses gives instructions on what the king should be like and what he should do. The king is required to copy the law of God—all of it—and read it every day. Why? “That he may learn to fear the LORD his God by keeping all the words of this law and these statutes” (Deut. 17:19). It’s not clear that any king practiced this requirement, yet I wonder how the history of Israel would have been different if their leaders had remembered the law.
So, with the king’s role in mind, Nehemiah and his compadres build an elevated platform. And they bring before the people the precious, long-forgotten book—the law of Moses, this text that the psalmist says is sweeter than honey and more to be desired than gold (Ps. 19:10)—and the scribe Ezra starts reading. He reads for six hours (Neh. 8:1–8). (And you think it’s hard to sit through a forty-five-minute sermon!)
Having been deprived of the life-giving, soul-stirring, resurrecting power of the Word of God, these former exiles long for what God has spoken. The text says the people’s ears are attentive (Neh. 8:3). They are leaning in, expectant, eager to hear God’s Word. They shout, “Amen, Amen” (v. 6). They bow their faces to the ground in worship. The people of Israel have neglected what God said to pay attention to and have forgotten his words. But now the Word of God becomes central to this city rebuilt out of ruins.
The biblical story pauses after the rebuilding of the renewed Jerusalem. The people remember God’s written Word, but now his voice seems lost and distant.
And then, hundreds of years later, the Word of God becomes flesh and dwells among them (John 1:14). The spoken word of Genesis 1 becomes an embodied Word in the person of Jesus.
After Jesus is anointed in his baptism and defeats the temptations of Satan in the wilderness, he begins his ministry. And he begins his ministry by teaching. He goes to his local synagogue and takes a scroll—the Word of God that is to be with the people of God—and he reads. God speaks, Moses documents, the king copies, Ezekiel prophesies, and Nehemiah reads. Now Jesus takes his place and speaks the recorded Word of God:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives
and recovering of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty those who are oppressed,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. (Luke 4:18–19; see Isa. 61:1–2)
Jesus rolls the scroll back up. He sits down, and he says, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled” (Luke 4:21). Whereas the previous prophets read or prophesied or spoke or meditated, Jesus comes on the scene and incarnates the words of Scripture. These are not abstract ideas or tidbits of information that are true. Jesus comes and embodies those words. He is them. Jesus says, in effect, “Today, God comes to you with good news of himself and liberty to the captives.” When God speaks, he continues to embody his words with the same creative and resurrecting power we saw in the Old Testament. But the words have become a person. The Word becomes flesh and dwells among us. To borrow a term from the hip-hop artist Paul Wall, Christianity is “trill”: true and real.
The early church is sent to witness to the “trill” salvific acts of God in Jesus Christ: to teach all nations everything that Jesus has commanded (Matt. 28:18–20). The early Christians devote themselves to the apostles’ teaching (Acts 2:42), among other things. When Philip goes to a desert place, he crosses paths with an Ethiopian eunuch returning from a visit to Jerusalem (Acts 8). The eunuch is reading Isaiah 53 but confesses that he can’t understand it unless someone explains it. If Philip can’t get from Isaiah 53 to the gospel, then there’s a problem. Philip tells him about the sacrifice of Jesus, which saves people from sin and punishment. Part of the ecclesial task is to explain the Scriptures, to teach the truth, to remind people of the Word of God.
Truth’s climax is not in mere intellectual understanding but in affectional praise and wonder. Romans 1–11 is perhaps the richest theological text of all time. In it, Paul deals with sin, justification, salvation, promises made, promises kept, struggles with sin, guilt and condemnation, freedom, and hope. And after all that theology, he ends like this:
Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!
“For who has known the mind of the Lord,
or who has been his counselor?”
“Or who has given a gift to him
that he might be repaid?”
For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen. (Rom. 11:33–36)
Theology leads to doxology. The point of knowing the truth is not to feel superior or to answer skeptics. The point of meditating on the law day and night is to know and love the God who gave us the words.
REMEMBERING THE LORD’S SUPPER
In the truth tradition, we can see the Lord’s Supper as a continual reminder. We are prone to forget, and Jesus invites us into a continual reminder. Jesus instructs, “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19). To remember is a mental act. Remember your sin, which nailed Jesus to the cross. Remember the suffering Jesus endured. Remember the forgiveness that flows from the cross. Remember how Jesus loved you. Remember salvation. Remember that this meal is a foretaste of the marriage supper of the Lamb at the end of the ages. Remember the gospel. Don’t forget it.
Active knowledge like this was often the way Israel passed on its faith to its children. The people were instructed in a ritual, and the expectation was that children would ask, “Why are we doing this?” (see Exod. 31:13; Lev. 23:43). Then Israel’s elders were to tell them. To take but one example, consider the memorial stones set up by Joshua after they crossed the Jordan into the promised land. These stones were meant to be a sign to their children. “When your children ask in time to come, ‘What do those stones mean to you?’ then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it passed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial forever” (Josh. 4:6–7). Through this event, the people of Israel arrived at an understanding that they could not have reached any other way.
