Memory can betray us. I remembered myself being much better and for some reason thought I could still perform at that level. To be honest I actually remember myself being much better than I ever was.As a follower of Jesus, I like to imagine myself right up there in the front row, listening, agreeing, making eye contact. In reality, I’m somewhere in the back of the room, hidden behind the lady with the big hair. I’m in the room but don’t really feel a part of what’s going on. I can hear Jesus talking but can’t always make out what He’s saying. With all the distractions back here it’s hard to pay attention.
Every now and then I want to ask a question and raise my hand, but the lady with the big hair blocks me from being seen. Some of the others back here with me snicker that I would want to enter the discussion going on up front. I put my hand back down and sigh.I hear laughter but missed the joke. Do I laugh anyway? I don’t want anyone to think I didn’t get it. So I’ll just smile and nod my head.
Now they’re singing. Do I join them? Nobody in the back of the room is singing. But I want to sing and I would sing, maybe not out loud, but I would sing if I knew the song. When did they quit singing the songs I’m familiar with?If memory serves me, I used to be better at this than I am now. No, I never sat on the front row but I remember being closer than I am now. And I don’t remember this lady with the big hair always being in front of me. Those were good days. I could grip and rip with the best of them. Or at least that’s how I remember it.