A Moment of Nostalgia

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Recently, I went to Memphis for the funeral of a friend’s father. On the way, I stopped off with my mom at the Wolfchase Galleria and walked around while she looked for a wedding gift for a friend of the family.

I was pleasantly surprised to find a FYE Music and Movies store. I thought those were all but extinct. Needless to say, it made my heart happy.

Best Buy and Barnes and Noble are all good and well, but I miss record stores, especially those in the mall. I can’t tell you how many Saturdays I spent looking through the cutout bins for a great deal. I got my first taste of bluegrass music in a record store.

I’m old school. I like for my books and music to be tangible. Nothing beats the musty smell of a book that’s been well used and well loved. Nothing beats the feel of a compact disc or a vinyl record in your hand.

Don’t get me wrong. I have my fair share of digital music that I listen to on my iPhone. But sometimes at night when I can’t sleep, I’ll hunt down the perfect CD for my mood, find my headphones and portable CD player, and drift off to music that was created by real people playing real instruments.

The Bible is replete with music. It’s a way of remembering your heritage. Just look at the Psalms and see how King David marked every kind of occasion, happy or sad, with a song.

Even now, a song on the radio can conjure up an old memory like nothing else can. It’s like a time machine to a defining moment in my past.

I hope that music store in Memphis can survive. Maybe one day soon I can go back when I have more time to kill.

 

 

Not Forgotten

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It’s funny that it took the death of Robin Williams to put him back in the spotlight. Suddenly, all his movies are flying off the shelves at places like Best Buy and Barnes & Noble and seemingly every other hashtag is some variation of either #ohcaptainmycaptain or #riprobinwilliams. Before he died, I hadn’t really thought about him much. Or at all. At least not in a long, long time.

We as a culture are so good at eulogizing and paying tribute to those we’ve lost, but not so good at remembering them while they’re still with us. And we have such short memories. Soon, we’ll be back to business as usual– until the next tragedy or until the next big celebrity passes away.

But something occurred to me just now.

There is never a moment when I am not on God’s mind. There’s not a time when He doesn’t see me and what I’m going through. There will never be an instant when He doesn’t love me as unconditionally and completely as if I were the only person on the planet.

You hardly ever hear anyone talk about Whitney Houston anymore. Or Philip Seymour Hoffman. Soon, all the talk about Robin Williams will die down and we’ll find something new to talk about.

But not in a million years will my God forget me. Not in a billion years will He ever desert me. His love for me will never ever decrease by even one iota. Not even if I were to forget Him.

I’m sitting in St. Paul’s with the lights off. It’s dark and quiet and still. The only sounds I hear are the hum of the air conditioning unit and the occasional pops and creaks of the old floorboards settling.

I am at peace. I’m reminded of what’s really important and what really matters. It’s not what you have or what you do for a living or who you know. It’s about being known and loved and cherished perfectly by the God who made you.

Remember this one thing if nothing else. You are not forgotten.