The Forgettable Ones - Mike Chipman

 

Recently, the yearbook staff at Murray High elected to dedicate this year’s yearbook to me. Receiving accolades from other teachers or administrators is one thing, but receiving them from the students made me feel honored and accepted. After receiving this honor, I couldn’t help but recall a conversation I had recently overheard. A group of students was talking about end-of-year awards: prom court, student council elections, and other “popularity contests.” One of the students talked about the importance of receiving those kinds of recognitions because he didn’t want to be among the “forgettable students” at Murray High. They further categorized “forgettable students” as those who no one will remember because they didn’t do anything “important” and weren’t recognized by the students or the teachers. In the days following my yearbook recognition, these statements caused a swirl of emotions. I reflected quite a bit on it, then I’ll reflect upon my reflections. This kind of cycle isn’t something unique to me, but it is something I can get lost in. I reflected on my own high school experience again - something I have done often in my adult life.

I was a forgettable high school student. I played football and I was pretty good. I ran track and I wasn’t good at all, but I loved doing it. Otherwise, I had a close group of friends who didn’t party but instead gathered together to play Dungeons and Dragons on the weekends. I didn’t hang out with popular kids. I didn’t date much. I made As and Bs. I stayed out of trouble with the teachers. I was the average student. If you look back in my high school yearbook, you might see a few pictures of me other than my school picture. Yearbook editors reserved “candid shots” for prom queens and the super studs, the “most likely to succeed” and the “class clown.” I was forgettable and I knew it. Yet, it wasn’t until I heard another student make this category many years later that I realized my school classmates may have considered me forgettable as well. Then I caught myself spiraling - joining the same pity party that has honored me as the star guest so many times. 

As the pastor of a small church, I’ve had to ask myself the hard question, “Do my people think they are forgettable?” This is a practical question. Do people feel welcome? Do I see a family/person that others leave out of the pre- and post-service huddles? Have I made sure people feel cared for? These are helpful questions, but we all know that some folks won’t ever do/have/feel any of these things. They are like me. They are in a constant state of reflection, worry, and concern. No matter how much you tell them you love and care for them, they will convince themselves it isn’t true. No matter how many friends they have and how many laughs they’ve shared, there will be a time when they feel forgettable. They will believe the lie. In the ministry to Christ’s people, we come across the people who feel forgotten no matter what. They will feel slighted and ignored. They will think someone has spoiled something for them. They might even leave the fellowship, hoping to find a flock where they can shine.

As you serve in your church - whether on staff or as a volunteer - you might even fall into this spiral yourself. When they talk about the last pastor, do you get jealous? Do you look around the room, wondering what people are saying about you? Do you exit the pulpit on Sunday longing for the compliments of others but only ever receiving a smile as they head to lunch? Do you find yourself sitting and hoping that the pastor - or anyone at all - will recognize your work in front of others? Have you ever passed up opportunities to serve because last time you weren’t recognized? If the church had a yearbook, would you immediately sprint to its index to find yourself? What is the answer for this need to be remembered?

Throughout the Scriptures, we read that while the covenant people of God may have felt forgotten, the Lord remembered them. I’m reminded of Leah in Genesis 29. Though her husband had forgotten her, the Lord remembered her. After having three sons, she hoped, “Now this time my husband will be attached to me because I have borne him three sons.” Jacob was a man with 1 other wife and 2 mistresses - remembering the wife that Laban forced on him wasn’t high on his priority list. Leah couldn’t rely on her husband to make her feel memorable, any more than I could rely on a yearbook or my congregation can rely on me. For Leah to be remembered forever, it would take someone who exists forever. After bearing Judah, she came to this conclusion finally. She proclaimed, “This time I will praise the Lord.” From Leah’s line, One would be born, the Lion of Judah, who would ensure that his people would never be forgotten. 

When it comes to my “forgettable” status in the world, it may be high. One day, my descendants won’t even remember my first name. While that may be true, right now, there is a place being prepared for me in glory. The same is true for every person that the Lord Jesus calls his own. I may sometimes feel forgettable. I may make people feel that way also. But, as a pastor, one thing I have for them is the gospel of Jesus Christ - that reminds us all that while the world may forget, our God in heaven never will. Preach the gospel to your people. Remind them they are not forgettable.