The sacred space of remembering.

Today is a day for remembering.

When so much time has passed it can feel hard to know where to begin the story. Like meeting up with an old friend after years of life have happened in the span of a few months. It feels difficult, almost too tiresome to begin to tell the story. A part of me wants to just say, sorry—you missed it and I just don’t have the energy to catch you up. But for the best of friends, the ones who have been with you through thick and thin, you take the deep breath, and make the effort to go back in time and remember. To tell the story because the friend you’re talking to is worthy of being brought along on the journey. Even if it means reliving some painful parts, it will certainly also mean reliving the joyful parts.

For friendships that we hold dear, it is worth telling the story to bring them into the intimacy of past time. To draw that friend back into the sacred space that is reserved for those privileged to enter your memories—tear-stained journal pages and triumphant victories, births and deaths, and all the bumps and bruises, all the sighs of relief, and gratitude, and expectation. For the most special of friends, we draw them into the tender place of remembering.

Unveiled has been among those friends. This little blog, and you who have journeyed with her, are worthy of me telling the story. We walked through some hard and glorious places together, and so at least for now, it’s time to reconnect and bring Unveiled up to speed.

It’s been two years. But, I remember.

Perhaps I will start here, with my newfound favorite Greek word—μνημονευω (mnēmoneuō). It simply means “I remember.” I’m in seminary these days and the first time I read that word out loud, my eyes welled with tears. Ι remember. I remember my history with the Lord, walking closely with Jesus through the years. Especially these last five when he led me deeply into his heart, right in the middle of the wilderness. These years are now amongst my most precious memories with the Lord.

In 2016, I left a job that I loved at an organization that I loved, and launched Unveiled, because he invited me to.
In 2017, I left a condo that I loved, and rented it out (ultimately to an Iranian woman who is now a dear sister-in-Christ), because he invited me to.
In 2018, I left a church family that I loved to serve on staff at a church with a people completely unknown to me, and found sisters and brothers in Christ that I’ll know and love for eternity, because he invited me to.
In 2019, Ι began preaching from the pulpit, because he invited me to. The girl once terrified of public speaking was preaching on Sunday mornings.
In 2020, I started seminary, because he invited me to (I miraculously made it through Greek finals this month—it’s not cheating if Jesus is whispering the answers to you!).
In 2021, I got ordained as a pastor, because he invited me to. It was one of the most beautiful days of my life (the picture above is from my ordination service).

And now, in 2022, I’ve started a new assignment at an organization that is personally meaningful, because he invited me to.

It took time to realize that every request, even the command, was always an invitation. Every time the Lord has asked me to do something, it has felt scary. I often doubted that I’d heard him correctly. It felt hard. It was always outside of my comfort zone. But each and every time, he amazed me by the breathtakingly beautiful and miraculous story that he penned with my life. I have grown more in love with Jesus at every turn.

And I remember.

I remember how he found me when my heart wandered even ever so slightly. I remember how he sent me companions for the journey. I remember how he never left me in a state of complacency. I remember how he is trustworthy with my tender heart in his hands. I remember that I am his, my life is not my own. I remember that I was bought with a great price, the precious blood of Jesus. And I remember saying yes to him.

I remember the intimacy of walking with Jesus along the paths in the wilderness—so often he stooped down to carry me. And at the start of each new journey, I will remember that he is the one who has called and sent me. I will remember that every time I have dared to say yes to him, despite how crazy or nonsensical it may seem, he has astounded me with his goodness.

What I have learned in the journeying is that the yes to Jesus always looks like him giving me more of himself. It is never about what I am doing, and always about who I am becoming.

And to that end, I have only one desire—let me always remember you, Lord. My first and best, and only Love. And if my heart begins to wander toward any other thing, I have this great assurance that you will return me to you again.

Always and forever, mnēmoneuō. I remember.

Lord, I have chosen you alone as my inheritance. You are my prize, my pleasure, and my portion. I leave my destiny and its timing in your hands. Your pleasant path leads me to pleasant places. I’m overwhelmed by the privileges that come with following you, for you have given me the best! (Psalm 16:5-6)