The value of writing about ordinary moments makes them un-ordinary moments. I can’t remember the last time I had an “ordinary” moment because this has been a two-journal year for me . . . and it’s only May.
I’ve kept a journal for nearly four decades – an archive of inner growth and failure, the keeper of family life and secrets, the record of each beat and breath that is a memorial to God’s goodness and faithfulness throughout it all.
We’re wired to remember, but we’re limited. Sometimes we recall more vividly the bad events over the good . . . but if we look for the good in the bad, it makes more sense.
And journaling is the art of remembering well.
There is something healing about recording naked words on sheaves to reveal the inner chamber of our heart. We remember events in black and white but when we write it down it becomes and remains a colored legacy of what a mighty God was doing before and within the moment.
Chronicles of great joys and sorrows are a collection of bits of life that come together to make us who we are. A record of faith and courage is in our own story.
If you haven’t kept a devotional journal, I encourage you to begin right where you are and notice the beautiful change in the way you view life and your relationship with Jesus.
You may think you don’t know where to begin or don’t have anything to say . . . so begin with a sentence.
For me, this is a special day – the thirty-ninth wedding anniversary to a guy who is missed. The benefit of keeping life stored in a written place where I revisit most of those anniversaries is within the covers of an old tattered journal – the archived landscape of life drawn with words – not only printed on the brain, but immortalized and written forever in the heart.
Some words blow away with the wind of the day but others need to be recorded on parchment, the preserved and priceless jewels that leave a costly heritage to the next generation.
The book of Joshua tells of gathering stones to build an altar of praise for the blessings in life. My journals are Gilgal-stones of remembrance to hand down.
We ourselves have a rich past to look back upon. We have sunny memories, sacred memories, satisfactory memories, and these are as flowers for the bees of faith to visit, from whence they make honey for present use. Charles Spurgeon