“I thank my God every time I remember you.”
Philippians 4:3

Remembering is no small subject in the Bible. After considerable thrashing about the meaning of life, the author of Ecclesiastes boldly prescribes, “Remember your Creator in the days of your youth” (12:1). The hopeful thief being crucified next to Jesus whispers, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42).

One of the blessings of belonging to Jesus is that God will “remember their sins no more” (Hebrews 8:12). Does that mean there is such a thing as divine amnesia? Of course not. God perfectly recollects everything that has ever happened. But in this context remembering means bringing something vividly to mind with an aim to take appropriate action. What makes grace so amazing is that while God knows everything there is to be known about our sin, he refuses to remember it. He will not chase us down and punish us for our wrongdoings.

So how does Paul remember to remember the people at Philippi – the original recipients of this letter? We honestly don’t know. We do know that he “faced daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches” (2 Corinthians 11:28). Paul was a shepherd who ached for the welfare of multiple congregations. Perhaps the Philippians were such an integral part of his prayer life that he found himself remembering their concerns every day.

Remembering is more than just a cerebral exercise. God has given us five senses that are uniquely configured to help us bring the past into the present. Research has demonstrated that eyesight is at the top of the sensory / memory pyramid. We remember as much as 80% of what we see. A touch can bring back memories both sweet and painful. With regard to hearing, Mary Sue and I have recently been listening to a station that plays nothing but hit singles from the 60s and 70s. We are stunned at how often a single musical riff transports us back to a middle school sock hop or a rainy day at camp. Tastes are also able to bring the past to life. Just sampling a particular combination of spices can be like a time machine that puts me back in my mother’s kitchen.

Smell, however, appears to be the most powerful agent of memory. I once heard a speaker describe his experience of trying to retrieve an errant golf ball. As he felt along the perimeter of a hedge, he suddenly began to weep. “Why is this happening to me?” he asked himself. Then he realized that he heard an old lawn mower – almost an antique – being pushed on the other side of the hedge. He could smell the peculiarly sweet mixture of lubricants and gasoline, an aroma that transported him back to his childhood. His late father used to push a mower just like that one. The power of memory overwhelmed him even before he had the chance to analyze it.

Think what happens every time we share the Lord’s Supper. Jesus says, “Remember me.” All five senses come into play. There is the taste and smell of bread and wine; the sight of others who represent the Body of Christ on earth; the sound of Scripture being read and music being played; and the touch of taking the bread and the cup into our own hands. The more we receive communion the more Jesus imprints memories of his grace, his love, and his presence onto our hearts.

Perhaps the most powerful part of Paul’s sentence is that he thanks God for the Philippians every time he remembers them. We may remember others with regret. Or with amazement. Or with a feeling of self-righteousness and judgment. Or with anger. Or perhaps with no emotion at all. Paul allows his memories of the Philippians to drive him, immediately, to thankfulness – a spiritual discipline that we all can practice every day.