We must meditate, bringing the jewels of God’s past faithfulness out into the light, that we may examine and delight ourselves in their sparkling glint. We must muse. We must speak and write of them, bringing wonder to ourselves and others: “Remember how the Lord brought Israel out of Egypt with a mighty hand! Feel Christ’s compassion towards the lost sheep of the house of Israel, when He would heal and say, ‘Go in peace!’ Hear the present, precious testimony of the Spirit crying, ‘Abba, Father!’”

Hear my prayer, O Lord, give ear to my supplications: in thy faithfulness answer me, and in thy righteousness.
And enter not into judgment with thy servant: for in thy sight shall no man living be justified.

It is not uncommon for us to feel chastised by God for our sin. The burden of conscience, strapped on by a true apprehension of sin, crushes us down in despair. We feel the weight of God’s heavy hand, and our knees buckle to the floor: “Do not enter into judgment with me! I know I am Your servant, and I know the vanity of pleading my own righteousness, for none are righteous in Your sight.” We know both our standing and wickedness, so we plead the Lord’s covenant faithfulness and righteousness. But that is not all.

For the enemy hath persecuted my soul; he hath smitten my life down to the ground;
he hath made me to dwell in darkness, as those that have been long dead.
Therefore is my spirit overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is desolate.

In our sin, we often feel not only the reality of God’s judgment, but also the misery of our predicament. Whichever way we turn, we can sink deeper into despair, as if in quicksand that has already risen up to our necks. The situation is paralyzing. What do we do? Turn ourselves over to the allurements of this world, as Judas to the glistening silver? Despair of ever mortifying that one darling sin, which we have kept so near our chests? Fall slain to the sufferings and persecutions of the present trial?

I remember the days of old; I meditate on all thy works; I muse on the work of thy hands.
I stretch forth my hands unto thee: my soul thirsteth after thee, as a thirsty land.

No; rather, we must think of the wondrous works of God. We must  remember. We must search the dark mines of our memory, seeking out the jewels of God’s faithful works both to others and to ourselves.

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