s your memory sanctified? Is your memory set apart to love the Lord your God, and to do so in God's way? Comments about a "sanctified imagination" are common, but I do not recall many commands prefaced with "Imagine". I know of quite a few which begin with "Remember."
Before we consider some of the obstacles to loving God with our memory, which is really all that a study of history is about, please give some thought to the following quotation.
When I use my memory, I ask it to produce whatever it is that I wish to remember. Some things it produces immediately; some are forthcoming only after a delay, as though they were being brought out from some inner hiding place; others come spilling from the memory, thrusting themselves upon us when what we want is quite different, as much as to say `Perhaps we are what you want to remember?' Some memories present themselves easily and in the correct order just as I require them. They come and give place in their turn to others that follow upon them, and as their place is taken they return to their place of storage, ready to emerge again when I want them. This is what happens when I recite something by heart. My memory also contains my feelings, not in the same way as they are present to the mind when it experiences them, but in a quite different way that is in keeping with the special powers of the memory. For even when I am unhappy I can remember times when I was cheerful, and when I am cheerful I can remember past unhappiness. I can recall past fears and yet not feel afraid, and when I remember that I once wanted something, I can do so without wishing to have it now. Sometimes memory induces the opposite feeling, for I can be glad to remember sorrow that is over and done with and sorry to remember happiness that has come to an end.
I have included this quote for two reasons. The first is to encourage you to ruminate on the gift of memory although some of you may be asking about the source of the quotation instead. The paragraph was written by a DWM (dead white male) named Augustine who lived in the northeast corner of Algeria about 1600 years ago. The excerpt above comes from his Confessions, Book 10, Chapters 8 and 14.
The second reason I included the quote is to insulate you from a common discouragement in acquiring a Christ-like grasp of history. This common discouragement is the Generation Gap Theory of History, a theory which divides human history into intellectual zip-lock bags and claims that communication between generations is incomprehensible. They say, "Those DWMs in northeast Algeria have absolutely nothing to say to you! They were completely unlike you in all respects. How could people without Nintendos or food processors relate to us?" This is all stuff and nonsense. You have just read an excerpt from Augustine in which he talks plainly about experiences we each have every day. In human behavior there is, as Solomon said, nothing new under the sun. So then, your reading of this selection from the Confessions of St. Augustine of Hippo Regius, AD 354-430, should have two results. First, you should at least realize that the primary source documents for many old authors make understandable as well as enjoyable reading. Second, it should make you feel more comfortable that Augustine was a man with a nature like ours and that he put on his pants, or whatever, one leg at a time.
Now if Augustine does have something to say to us, then what is he saying in the quote? Let me tell you what I think. In the first five sentences he is touching on the selectivity of memory. The fact is that we all remember some things better than others. While it may not seem profound, it is actually a very important thing to keep in mind when writing history, or when reading history. The historian, when faced with mountains of information, must select and arrange his material in order to tell a story. How does he select and arrange, and what story is he trying to tell? He does so in a way that is consistent with his own view of God, man, and the world. "But", you gasp, "that is not very objective." But in history, as in everything else under the sun, there is no such thing as neutrality. It does not exist. Either the historian is laboring to bring every thought captive to the obedience of Christ, or he is in rebellion against the Lord of history. And the side he takes makes a difference in his selection and arrangement of material.
Let's take an example from biblical history. Remember Jeroboam II? He was the ruler of the northern kingdom of Israel from 993 to 953 BC, who reigned longer than any other king of Israel during the divided monarchy. Through his brilliant military campaigns, he extended the borders of the kingdom to their greatest extent, and through his conquests brought great wealth and influence to the northern ten tribes. You don't remember him? May I suggest a reason for your selective memory? It is probably the result of reading your Bibles. You see, although Jeroboam II is a major figure in the secular histories of the Jewish nation, the book of 2 Kings only gives this king seven verses. And the judgment of the sacred writer on this king's long career is "He did evil in the sight of the Lord." What an epitaph! The point to this is that written histories, like our own memories, must be selective. So the real question is whether our standard of selection is godly or not.
Augustine makes another point about memory that serves as a good reminder to us. In the final four sentences of his
remarks he makes the point that to remember doing something is not the same as doing it. Is this another mild-mannered profundity? Well,
yes, it is. There are many professing Christians who spend too much time taking comfort from the memory of past obedience, and too
little time being present-tense doers of the word. But it doesn't matter what you used to do.
Remember Lot's wife.
