Memory shapes behavior. Think about it for a moment and you’ll realize it’s true. The way you act and behave, the decisions you make, in large part, come down to memory. What I remember pushes me and pulls me in different directions while I live life. Memory serves us by steering us away from pain and pulling us toward pleasure or security. It protects. Memory shapes behavior. For this reason, the older we get the wiser we become. For this reason, a loss of memory in a loved one breaks our heart, because, without memory, they just aren’t the same.
In a variety of ways, memory serves as a dear friend in this life, yet not always. Sometimes memory makes it harder to live right. Sometimes a Christian must refuse to let a memory shape their behavior. To make that point, Paul takes up his pen and writes I Corinthians 13:4-5, “Love...does not take into account a wrong suffered...”
We remember when others hurt us. We remember pain inflicted by parents, spouses, friends, even members of our family in Christ. Wrongs we’ve suffered at the hands of others can easily become unforgettable.
We often say that Jesus calls us to “forgive and forget,” but Jesus never demanded we forget. And to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure we always have a choice in the matter.
There are many things I’d like to forget, and many things I’ve tried to forget that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forget. The vast majority of the time we do not choose our memory, rather memories are etched upon our minds against our will leaving us powerless to erase them.
And that’s precisely why Paul writes, “Love...does not take into account a wrong suffered...” Appreciate that Paul does not say that “love forgives and forgets.” Instead, he teaches that love makes a conscious effort concerning those unforgettable offenses; I never take them into account.
Paul knows that we can’t choose to forget every slight, but he urges us to not let those memories impact how we treat our brethren. When a Christian calculates how to treat another they refuse to factor in the offenses they’ve committed against them. Love doesn’t count. Love requires that you care for me, encourage me, help fill my needs, pray for me, teach me, talk to me, despite the mountain of wrongs I’ve committed against you. Love demands you stop counting all the times I was unlovable. Love doesn’t count.
Remember, my love is not measured by my ability to forget what my brother did, but by my willingness to not count it against him.
