Remembering for Tomorrow
Every November, something unusual happens. For a couple of minutes, the country becomes quiet. Shops pause. People stand still. At the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, we remember. It is so easy to think of remembrance as looking backwards. We remember those who served, those who were lost and the enormous cost of conflict. We wear a poppy, attend a service, observe the silence and then life moves on. But perhaps remembrance is not only about looking backwards. Perhaps it is about looking back so that we can look forwards more wisely.
The Bible has quite a lot to say about remembering. In Joshua chapter 4, the people of Israel have crossed the Jordan River and are entering the land God had promised them. God tells them to take twelve stones from the middle of the river and set them up on the other side. Why stones? Because people forget. God knew that the excitement of today could become the forgotten history of tomorrow. The stones were a visible reminder of what had happened. When future generations asked, “What do these stones mean?”, the story could be told again. They helped Israel remember where they had come from, what God had done and what they had learned.
That seems relevant in a world that changes at an extraordinary pace. Technology, politics and society change. Things we thought were certain can suddenly feel uncertain. Yet there is a danger in always looking to what is next. If we forget the past, we can easily repeat its mistakes. History is full of examples of people who failed to learn the lessons of yesterday. The Bible is too. Again and again, God’s people are reminded to remember because forgetting has consequences.
Remembrance Day offers us a similar opportunity. We remember not because the past can be changed, but because the future can be. We remember the sacrifice of others and ask what kind of world that sacrifice was meant to protect. We remember conflict and ask how we can work for peace. We remember courage, service and selflessness and ask what those qualities might look like in our own lives.
Perhaps we all need a few “stones” of our own: things that remind us where we have been, what we have learned, who has helped us and, above all, what God has done. Because remembering is not about living in yesterday. It is about carrying the right lessons from yesterday into tomorrow.
So, this November, as we stop at the eleventh hour and remember, perhaps we could do something more than simply look back. Let us remember well. And then let us walk forward wisely.
The Beauty of Letting Go
Walking along the woodland path at Cherry Fields recently, I found myself slowing down. The path was carpeted with fallen leaves in shades of gold, amber and deep red. There was something quietly beautiful about it. Only a few weeks earlier, those same leaves had been full of life, catching the summer sunshine. Now they rested on the ground, crunching beneath my feet.
Every autumn, millions of trees quietly do something that most of us find surprisingly difficult. They let go. Leaves that have spent months growing, capturing sunlight and bringing life simply drift to the ground. No resistance. No panic. No desperate attempt to cling on. They simply release what has served its purpose.
We're often different. We hold on to old disappointments, past mistakes, treasured memories, old habits and sometimes even yesterday's successes. We tell ourselves that holding on somehow keeps us safe, when in reality it can stop us embracing what lies ahead. Autumn isn't the season when the trees stop growing. It's the season when they grow differently.
Through the prophet Isaiah, God says, "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?" (Isaiah 43:18–19). These words aren’t asking us to ignore the past. There are lessons to learn, memories to treasure and people we should never forget. But we are invited not to live there. If we become so focused on what was, we may miss the new thing already beginning.
The hope I have found in Jesus always points me forwards. His forgiveness means my past no longer defines me. God is always quietly preparing the ground for something new.
Perhaps that's the lesson the trees have been teaching all along. They are not giving up; they are getting ready.
What looks like an ending is actually preparation. Beneath the surface, roots continue to grow. Energy is being stored. New buds are already beginning to form, even though they won't appear until spring.
The next time I walk through Cherry Fields, I know the leaves will crunch beneath my feet just as they did this week. But I suspect I'll see them differently. Instead of seeing what the tree has lost, I'll be reminded of what it's preparing for.
Perhaps that's a question worth carrying with us this October: What am I holding on to that I need to release?
Because perhaps the most beautiful new beginnings don't start with holding on a little tighter, but with having the courage to let go.
