Still Here, But Forgotten
We see it on tombstones, accompanying picture of loved ones, on cards expressing sympathy, etc.:
Gone, but not forgotten
Most of us can relate to this. In fact, I think that it would be difficult to find very many people who have lost somebody close to them, but who don’t continue to have memories of them. I am one of those fortunate ones for whom those memories are pleasant. The pain of losing family members and friends is tempered by the good times we were able to share.
Since there is apparently not as much fear of personal interaction due to various strains of Covid, I’ve been trying to get back to doing more visiting of some of the members of the church where I serve as an elder. Along with this, all of the elders and our preachers are attempting to make sure that we visit each of our members. We realize that we cannot get this done overnight, but we plan to get it done over time.
Since I have tried to “step up” my visiting, I am experiencing something that breaks my heart. What truly breaks my heart is the fact that what I’m running into is not unique to the fairly recent pandemic, nor is it unique to the congregation where I presently serve as an elder.
I have worked in some capacity with four different congregations during my lifetime. I was a member in one, the preacher in two, and both a preacher and an elder in the congregation where I presently serve. Sadly, I’ve had the same (or at least similar) experience in all of them. I fear that I’m not the only one who could say something like this.
To be honest, it is fairly depressing to try to count the number of times I’ve been in somebody’s house and have discovered that they at least feel like they are…
still here, but forgotten.
At times, that is almost exactly what they will say. Usually, it is expressed as, “I thought that maybe you all had forgotten about me.” Recently, I heard one of our members tell me some names of people who used to visit, call, send a note, etc., but haven’t done so in quite some time.
Some of these people who feel like they’ve been forgotten were formerly very active in the local congregation. They may have been (and some I’ve visited have been over the years) former elders, deacons, Bible class teachers, preachers, etc. My heart aches as I listen to people expressing the hurt of being gone from our assemblies, classes, activities, etc. and feeling as though they’ve been “put on a shelf” and forgotten.
I know that we are all busy. I jokingly tell people that I haven’t figured out what this “retirement thing” is yet. Part of the reason for that is that I’m using some of the time I used to use for sermon and class preparation to spend a little time with those who, because of health, age, and/or other circumstances can no longer be with the rest of the congregation when we worship and study together.
At my age, I realize that some health issues or other challenges caused by the aging process could put me in that category of “shut-ins.” I also realize that an accident, a major health event, change in family dynamics, or a host of other things could keep me from being as active and involved as I would like to be. I would like to think that I would not be forgotten. Nobody really wants people to forget them.
So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets. (Matt. 7:12, ESV)
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AUTHOR: Jim Faughn
