Don't Forget What He's Done
There’s a sobering line tucked into Psalm 106 that hits closer to home than we might like:
Israel had just witnessed the power of God—miracles in Egypt, escape through the Red Sea, provision in the desert. And still… they forgot. Not after decades. Soon.
They forgot what he had done.
They stopped waiting for his voice.
They ran after what they craved.
This isn’t just a story about a group of people long ago. It’s a cautionary tale for us.
We might not build golden calves or wander through literal wilderness, but we’re just as capable of forgetting God—especially when life gets busy, when we feel uncertain, or when we’re tempted to chase what looks easier or more immediate.
Author and missionary Elizabeth Elliot once reflected on this Psalm in her journal:
Elizabeth Elliot is best known for her remarkable story of faith, obedience, and forgiveness. In 1956, her husband Jim and four other missionaries were killed while attempting to make contact with the Waorani people (then known as the Auca) in Ecuador. Just two years later, Elizabeth returned to live among the very people who had taken her husband’s life, sharing the gospel with grace and courage. She would go on to write more than twenty books that have shaped generations of Christians. But before all of that—before the tragedy, before the calling—there was a quiet desire shared between Jim and Elizabeth: that nothing, not even their love for each other, would take the place God should have in their hearts.
Their journals show a deep commitment to walking closely with God, especially in the hidden moments of waiting, listening, and remembering. Their story reminds us that spiritual forgetfulness isn’t always loud or dramatic—it’s often slow, and subtle. Which makes remembering all the more vital.
For ancient Israel, the anchor was the exodus—God delivering them from slavery with power and mercy. The prophets kept calling the people back to that moment: Don’t forget who you are. Don’t forget who he is.
For Christians, the anchor is the cross. That’s where Jesus bore our sin and gave us new life. And like Israel, we need to keep returning to that place of rescue—not to dwell in the past, but to live with gratitude and confidence in the present.
Remembering God’s faithfulness is a habit, not a feeling. It’s something we do deliberately:
Because when we forget, our hearts drift. But when we remember, we’re reoriented—back to grace, back to trust, back to hope.
If you’re someone who follows Jesus, take a moment today to think on his faithfulness. Don’t just rush through your day—recall what he’s done. Let it strengthen your soul.
And if you’re still asking questions or feeling unsure, you’re not alone. Maybe start here: What would it mean if God really had acted in history to rescue and redeem? What if remembering him isn’t about guilt, but about grace?
The truth is—God has acted. And he still is.
Let’s not forget it.
“But they soon forgot his works; they did not wait for his counsel.” (Psalm 106:13, ESV)
Israel had just witnessed the power of God—miracles in Egypt, escape through the Red Sea, provision in the desert. And still… they forgot. Not after decades. Soon.
They forgot what he had done.
They stopped waiting for his voice.
They ran after what they craved.
This isn’t just a story about a group of people long ago. It’s a cautionary tale for us.
We might not build golden calves or wander through literal wilderness, but we’re just as capable of forgetting God—especially when life gets busy, when we feel uncertain, or when we’re tempted to chase what looks easier or more immediate.
Author and missionary Elizabeth Elliot once reflected on this Psalm in her journal:
“Solemn warning indeed… God forbid that we should ever forget His works, and haste ahead of Him.”
Elizabeth Elliot is best known for her remarkable story of faith, obedience, and forgiveness. In 1956, her husband Jim and four other missionaries were killed while attempting to make contact with the Waorani people (then known as the Auca) in Ecuador. Just two years later, Elizabeth returned to live among the very people who had taken her husband’s life, sharing the gospel with grace and courage. She would go on to write more than twenty books that have shaped generations of Christians. But before all of that—before the tragedy, before the calling—there was a quiet desire shared between Jim and Elizabeth: that nothing, not even their love for each other, would take the place God should have in their hearts.
Their journals show a deep commitment to walking closely with God, especially in the hidden moments of waiting, listening, and remembering. Their story reminds us that spiritual forgetfulness isn’t always loud or dramatic—it’s often slow, and subtle. Which makes remembering all the more vital.
For ancient Israel, the anchor was the exodus—God delivering them from slavery with power and mercy. The prophets kept calling the people back to that moment: Don’t forget who you are. Don’t forget who he is.
For Christians, the anchor is the cross. That’s where Jesus bore our sin and gave us new life. And like Israel, we need to keep returning to that place of rescue—not to dwell in the past, but to live with gratitude and confidence in the present.
Remembering God’s faithfulness is a habit, not a feeling. It’s something we do deliberately:
- We rehearse his goodness.
- We tell the stories again.
- We reflect on what he’s already done, especially when we’re waiting on what’s next.
Because when we forget, our hearts drift. But when we remember, we’re reoriented—back to grace, back to trust, back to hope.
If you’re someone who follows Jesus, take a moment today to think on his faithfulness. Don’t just rush through your day—recall what he’s done. Let it strengthen your soul.
And if you’re still asking questions or feeling unsure, you’re not alone. Maybe start here: What would it mean if God really had acted in history to rescue and redeem? What if remembering him isn’t about guilt, but about grace?
The truth is—God has acted. And he still is.
Let’s not forget it.
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