shed this forgetfulness

I have been digging into Proverbs lately. Underlining and highlighting and soaking in
all the practical and deep,
the bundles of steady wisdom.

And in this saturation, I'm hoping some of it will rub off upon me.

Because I need it. Desperately.

How many times have I read about the fool and seen myself leap out?
And how many times have I read about the wise man and longed to find
just a
fragment
of my heart in those lines?

I need to search, really search and stretch like elastic to even
begin
to imagine myself having things in common with this wise, righteous man. This wise one who stays on the path, ponders instead of forgets, leans in the right places, thinks before he speaks, slows, gives with mercy, offers himself with intention.

I'm seeing my foolish feebleness, my folly, my chronic forgetfulness.

Oh my forgetfulness.

And I remember Ezekiel 17's prostitute who did not remember.
She did not remember the days of her youth, when she was naked and bare, wallowing in blood.
She did not remember what He rescued her from.

And that is me.


How the Proverbs plead with me to keep the teaching,
keep the words,
the remembrance,
bound on my fingers,
written on my heart.

Oh Abba, I want to be righteous, a lover of your rebuke, one who remembers your love and work, who walks well, thinks first, ponders always, answers soft.

I know I'm lacking. But
I'm looking back to those days.

How your rescued me from my blood.

And though I'm an adulterer, you have a covenant bound in faithfulness.

So shed this default of mine, of forgetfulness. And let me live
in remembrance of you.