One of the minor stresses of our modern age is trying to remember all of the different passwords required to access information we need to live our lives. There’s the password to pay your electric bill or to access social media or a streaming service or an app. It is impossible to keep them straight. A favorite recent meme of mine is an online interaction between a person and a computer hacker. The hacker says, “I have all your passwords,” and the person replies, totally relieved, saying, “Oh my goodness, thank you, what are they?”

Especially now that the internet functions as an externalized memory bank, memory has become that much more elusive of a faculty. It’s hard to remember people’s names the moment after they tell us. It’s downright impossible for us to remember our own dreams the moment we wake up.

As the Apostle Peter writes to various churches from a prison cell in Rome as he awaits execution, his final wish is to remind them of something. He says, “I think it right, as long as I am in this body, to refresh your memory … and I will make every effort so that after my departure you may be able at any time to recall these things.” Strangely, what he wants to remind them of is the Transfiguration, when Peter saw Jesus revealed for who he really is — not a teacher or a prophet, but the Son of God in all his glory.

Why would Peter insist on this? Why is he afraid that Christians are going to forget about, of all things, the Transfiguration? Perhaps it’s because when we remember that Jesus is Lord of all, everything falls into place. We remember that we are, subsequently, not Lord, that we are not in control, that we need only to trust God who is in control. When Jesus’ holiness is revealed in all its splendor, our sin and undeservedness are revealed in their wretchedness. We simply have no choice but to fall at his feet and receive his mercy.

In fact, Peter says all of our sin is rooted in forgetfulness. Right before this passage he urges Christians to be faithful, saying, “Make every effort to add to your faith goodness; self-control; perseverance and love. Whoever does not have [these things] is nearsighted and blind, forgetting that they have been cleansed from their past sins.” In other words, all our fear, all our sin, everything that is wrong with us comes from forgetting that we have been cleansed from our sins.

British songwriter and poet Alabaster DePlume’s song, “Don’t Forget You’re Precious,” is a haunting reminder of our proclivity to forget and the urgent need to remember:

I remember my pin number
I remember my ex’s email address
But I forget that I’m precious
I remember my National Insurance
I remember the way they laughed
I remember the names they used
But I forget that I am precious

Sounds funny but I forget sometimes
I remember to drink
I remember to laugh
I remember to check my Instagram
But I forget that I’m precious
Don’t do it
Don’t forget you’re precious

I remember my identity
I remember my shame
I remember the German word for ‘calculator’
But I forget that I’m precious (Taschenrechner)

Remembering that we are precious in the eyes of God (i.e. that we have been cleansed of our sins) and allowing that memory to dwell deep in our hearts is the key to a life lived by the Spirit. This is why our church service is rooted in remembering when we, the forgetful who deserved to be forgotten, were spared by the one who was forgotten on our behalf. “Father, why have you forsaken me?” can be translated, “Father, why have you forgotten me?” Because Jesus was forgotten, we will always be remembered.

And so the Cross is our souvenir of our salvation, that word itself deriving from the French verb “to remember.” Whenever we look to the Cross, we can hear God’s gentle reminder: “Don’t forget you’re precious.”

Of course, we will forget, which is why Peter wants to put it in writing. Some say that writing things down will lead to forgetting them. In one of Plato’s dialogues, Socrates warns that writing things out would cause forgetfulness. Today, a lot of researchers still agree that writing does, in fact, kill memory. And yet, there’s a tradeoff. If you want to make sure something is a done deal, you have to put it in writing. If an agreement is made by mere talk, it is subject to change and to forgetfulness. If it is in writing, however, it may as well be set in stone. In a sense, that is what the Bible is: God’s promise put in writing, a promise we can come back to whenever we forget.

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