The idea of ‘forgetting’ covers a lot of territory. Forgetting our keys is one thing, forgetting to pick up your child is another, and forgetting that you even have a child is still another.The first happens to everyone, the last is almost inconceivable, outside of some kind of dementia. So what exactly do we mean when we talk about ‘forgetting’ the Lord?

We should probably consider both temporary forgetfulness (like forgetting your keys or your child) and more permanent forgetfulness. We all forget to do the little things that we should do—we forget to pray, or to think about others or go to the Temple. Notice that all these things are neither performative (others tend not to seethem) nor part of the general structures of our lives (unless we have intentionally put them there). We have to regularly decide to do them for ourselves, instead of because others will see us or because they are part of the structures of our lives.

In contrast, a more permanent forgetting, unless due to dementia, is almost intentional. When we stop going to church its because something has interrupted our normal schedule or because we have chosen to stop going. We’re breaking an established pattern—which almost means that it isn’t exactly forgetting, but instead choosing to forget.

What’s the difference? While I think we should worry about both, a temporary forgetting is a kind of symptom of where our hearts are—its more about not making our love of God an integral part of our lives. If God was a habitual and important part of our lives, would we ever forget to pray? In contrast, more permanent forgetting is often more like rebelling, because it is more often deciding to change what we are doing.

Perhaps this difference means we should think about these kinds of forgetting differently.

 

“Love the Lord thy God with all thine heart.”

Our temporary forgetting may be a sign that we don’t love the Lord with ALL our hearts. Of course, we all fall short of what we should be, and we could all do better. But the point is that when our love of God and of one another is completely integrated into our hearts, we cannot forget—because its part of who we are.

This poem, written as World War II is threatening peace and distracting many from God, Distractions are, of course, a primary reason for forgetting. Eva Willes Wangsgaard (1893-1967) was a prolific poet and frequent contributor to LDS publications.

 

How can I sing of Christmas while the guns

Clatter in warning, and our fears increase?

While maps of forts and pictured garrisons

Are daily fare, how can I sing of peace?

Why sing of Him who came to spread good will?

We lean yet on the rock of “tooth for tooth.”

Which he prepared for burning in the kiln,

Of charity to form the lime of Truth.

How can that Babe’s first indrawn breath be heard

Above this clamor with its grim intent?

How can the armored hearts of men be stirred

By one lost star in an unseen firmament?

O, words, be sharp as bayonets, to sting

Till rigid knees go down before the King!

I can remember peace upon the world –

Peace, white and shining as this rippled snow.

I can remember days when faith was curled

Around our hearts like flowering mistletoe.

Yuletide in England rang with revelries

Of caroling and merriment adrift:

Christmas in Germany meant laden trees,

Tinseled and starred, with love in every gift

But that was yesterday. Now, men are tall

And straight as pines and uniform as withes,

In massed battalions solid as a wall

And drilled to meet the many-bladed scythes.

Who would turn back? Yet, while we are engrossed

In changing old for new, how much is lost!

O, Man of Nazareth, come back this day;

Let us but touch Thy garments or that gem

Glowing with love, whose all-embracing ray

Blazed in a star one night in Bethlehem.

Teach us again the law we failed to learn.

To love the Lord, our God, with heart and soul,

To love our neighbor, asking no return

Save one of faith, the faith that makes us whole.

Help me to sing, and touch all hearts to heed –

Never a time when song was wanted more –

Just that old song, but give each word the speed

And force of bullets never known before,

Thy Spirit, Christ, Thy word, that song of peace,

Fixed in our hearts will bring the world release.

1940

 

“Beware lest thou forget the Lord.”

So what do we do to help us remember? Do we leave ourselves notes? Tie strings around our fingers? Do we need to structure our lives around the Lord, at the risk of then forgetting that the Lord is more important than our schedule?

Here the brilliant Sarah Carmichael, whose poetic life was tragically cut short by mental illness, sees the Bible as a way of remembering—and it no doubt helps that the Bible itself urges us so often to remember.

 

She smiled and placed it in his hand,

When last she bade him go;

When the last blessing left her lip,

So softly breathed and low.

She pointed to a penciled page,

And smoothed his shining hair,

“My child, should danger cross thy path,

Thy mother’s words are there.”

 

He took the gift, and turned to dash

The trembling tear away,

That dared to start from his full heart,

Tho’ manhood bade it stay;

And then went forth alone, and trod

A rugged path and high;

Flung burning words in falsehood’s face,

And dared it to reply.

 

But dark temptations bade him turn

From virtue’s cause away,

And scorn’s proud sneer was in his ear,

And flatt’ry bade him stay;

And he—forgive him—once he paused;

But woke with shuddering start:

His eye was on his mother’s gift;

Her words were in his heart.

 

“I know thy soul is honor’s home;

I know that thou would’st dare

To cross the boiling waves of death,

If duty call’d thee there,

But there is One who saith—none,

Who tread this crumbling sod,

Can stand alone beneath his throne:

Remember God!

 

Forget-ah, if thou wilt forget

The friends that loved thee true;

Forget, yes, I must speak it, yes!

Forget thy mother too;

But oh! in joy’s bright hour, or when

Thy spirit feels the rod,

My boy, my darling, only boy!

Remember God!”

 

He stood for one brief moment there,

With trembling lip and pale;

He seemed to shrink from danger’s brink,

And felt his spirit quail:

Then bent his knee, and formed a prayer

Of broken words and wild;

And then went forth, but not alone,

His mother’s rescued child.

1860

 

Helping people in need involves generous hands and willing hearts.

Helping others is perhaps one of the best evidences that we haven’t forgotten the Lord. If the Lord is integrated into your  heart, you help others. And helping is often in the moment, involving a decision to override our current plans or pleasures for the benefit of someone else. Its often inconvenient.

Perhaps biased in her assessment, here Edith Anderson sees the hands of someone, perhaps a relative—but she doesn’t say, who has spent a life in service to others.

 

I looked at your hands as you peacefully lay

On your beautiful bed of chiffon;

And I could not but wish that my own were as fair,

When my humble mission is done.

Though twisted and gnarled and shriveled from pain,

To me, they were beautiful still:

Oh, fortunate hands, hands blessed to serve

The mandates of love’s sweet will.

To be raised in defense of the right and the weak,

To smooth away anger and pain,

To labor untiringly, not for yourself

But ever for others’ gain.

My heart wells with gratitude just to have felt

The kindness of their caress.

Those hands that were ready to help those in need,

So eager to succor and bless.

I heard those around me with sadness exclaim,

“How peaceful they look, at rest;”

But your spirit so smilingly seemed to assure

They continue the work they love best.

On history’s pages, some valorous deeds

Have accosted attention and praise;

And some by engraving the human heart

Transmit them to future days.

1932

 

Moses was “like unto” Jesus Christ.

I sometimes think that each Come Follow Me lesson has an outlier, something that doesn’t fit with the rest of the sections of the lesson, and something that is difficult include. I’m sure that Moses, like each of us, had many qualities like those of Christ. And likely he was closer than the rest of us. Moses was also one of several prophets who established new dispensations, turning the hearts of many to the Lord when cultural forces required that to be presented in a new way.

Here William W. Phelps details theses prophets and shows their similarities to Christ.

 

I saw a Lamb that had been slain,

(When mercy’s flag was furl’d),

And yet he lives with seven horns,

The wonder of the world.

 

Our father Adam, as the first,

Possess’d the power of lives;

And rose, arch angel Michael then,

To reign when earth revives.

 

And Noah as the second, walk’d

A perfect man with God;

And, Gabriel like, prepar’d an ark

For living through the flood.

 

And righteous Abra’m rose as third,

Through him the promise run;

And when the sacrifice was ask’d

He took his only son.

 

And Moses meekly stood as fourth

To show the power of God,

And mighty miracles perform’d

With the eternal rod.

 

Elijah fifth, that holy man,

Destroy’d the priests of Baal,

And soar’d above, in flaming flame,

To dwell within the vale.

 

And Peter sixth, was blest by Christ,

To hold the Kingdom’s Keys,

And bind or loose on earth for heaven,

As did the spirit please.

 

And Joseph, Seventh, ministers

(Till all things written come,)

To show the world her destin’d end,

And gather Israel home.

 

Eternal truth, this Lamb was Christ

Who won the crown of thorns;

In seven dispensations, too,

Those Prophets stand as horns.

 

For Joseph’s horns, like Unicorns,

Must push’d the eleventh hour;

In Jesus’ elders always was

The hiding of his power.

1841

 

The Lord invites me to choose between good and evil.

Every choice that we make in life tells something about where our heart is at that moment. When we don’t consider the teachings of Christ in our decisions, whether we have temporarily forgotten or not, it shows how well we have made those teachings part of who we are.

Here, one of the our most significant poets, Ruby Lamont, yearns for that kind of heart, one that is ready to commune with Christ because it has become like Him.

 

Oh that my soul in joy might meet

My lov’d Redeemer’s face,

In blessed confidence might greet

The throne of heav’nly grace!

That, as my soul ascends on high,

The happy paeans of the sky

Might ring a glad farewell to earth

And welcome to a heav’nly birth.

 

Oh that my soul might learn to live

The laws that are most high;

Learn sweetly, meekly to forgive

And grandly how to die!

That with its last farewell to earth,

A gem of bright, celestial worth,

‘Twould find its mansion ‘mong the blest—

The happy souls whom Christ loves best!

 

Oh teach me, Lord, within my heart,

The law that leads to Thee;

And give me pow’r to choose the part

That leaves the soul most free.

To Thee my dimmed, blurred life would rise

To purer realms beyond the skies;

My every hope and wish shall be

To still live nearer, Lord, to Thee.

1889