Remembering The God We Don't Remember

Psalm 22 moves to a worldwide vision of revival. Are you ready to remember?

✝️✝️✝️ Be sure to read the announcement below for more information about next week. Holy Week begins on Palm Sunday with “Eight Days that Changed the World.”

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6: 12 AM, April 9, 2025

The God We Don’t Remember

There’s a moment in Psalm 22 when everything changes.

The suffering of the Servant, the silence of God, the scorn of men—suddenly, the psalm lifts its eyes to a horizon that stretches across the world.

All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord,
and all the families of the nations shall worship before you.
For kingship belongs to the Lord,
and he rules over the nations. —Psalm 22:27–28)

It’s as if the King of Israel and Jesus on the cross are handing us a very important key. They tell us that the key to everything is a secret that is not hidden.

It’s forgotten.

The key to worldwide revival is not new information—it is remembrance. Not discovery but recollection.

“All the ends of the earth shall remember…”

Remember what? 
That we have a Creator. 
That we belong to Someone. 
That our breath is borrowed.

And it seems today, like the world has amnesia. Doesn’t it?

We forget who made us.
We forget who we are.
We forget why we’re here.

Isaiah said it plainly: “Shall the pot say to the potter, ‘You made me not’? Shall the thing formed say of him that formed it, ‘He had no understanding’?” (Isaiah 29:16)

Absurd! Ridiculous! Unbelievable!

And yet here we are—pots declaring independence from the Potter. Self-made men and women who did not make themselves.

The pot mocks the Potter—calling Him a myth, a crutch for the weak, or at best, some nameless force behind the stars, silent and far away.

A Case of Widespread Amnesia

Throughout our study, I’ve leaned on a few voices from across the centuries—preachers and scholars who, like us, have wrestled with the power of Psalm 22. One such voice is John Stevenson, a pastor I know almost nothing about, except that he lived around the time of the American Civil War. But his commentary struck me deeply.

He draws an analogy that makes sense to me—a word picture of a man in search of a jewel he had lost long ago.

He can’t quite recall its exact beauty, nor where he lost it, nor what it was really worth. He spends his life searching—mistaking imitations for the real thing, chasing after whatever sparkles. Over time, he gathers what he can—lesser treasures, broken fragments—and gives them the name of the one priceless thing he’s lost.

He still longs for it, though he doesn’t fully remember it. Sound familiar? Our forgetfulness of God is not indifference—it’s misplaced longing.

We are treasure hunters haunted by a memory we can’t quite name. And Psalm 22 declares that, by the mercy of the Cross, we will remember again.

Paul in Athens

Paul met the same forgetting spirit in Athens. Surrounded by idols and intellectuals, he gently pointed to the altar marked “To the Unknown God.” You don’t know Him, Paul said—but you used to. You’re still searching. And what you seek, God has already revealed—in Jesus.

Psalm 22 says the same thing: The God we don’t know is the God we don’t remember.

And we must.

And be sure you read the Psalm again on this matter. This remembering isn’t private. It’s not nationalistic. It’s not political.

It is global and personal: “All the families of the nations…”

Not governments. Not empires. Not spiritual superpowers. Just people. Real people. In families. In cultures. In every corner of the earth.

And what are they doing? Worshiping.

Messengers of Memory

If we believe this, then we must live as messengers of memory. We must help our fellow inhabitants of Earth remember who they are.

That they are made by God. Loved by God. Saved by God.

When I was a boy growing up in Nogales, Arizona, I attended St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church. I still remember a prayer we said often—one that might be considered out of step today. It was a prayer for “All Sorts and Conditions of Men”. But I’ve never forgotten its first bold claim: The first thing wrong with many civilizations is that they do not know God.

So today, let us pray it together—as Jesus prayed on the cross, not only for Himself but for the world He died to save.

Grace and Peace,

David Roseberry
The Anglican

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A Collect: For All Sorts and Conditions of Men

O God, the Creator and Preserver of all mankind, we humbly beseech thee for all sorts and conditions of men: that thou wouldest be pleased to make thy ways known unto them, thy saving health unto all nations. More especially, we pray for the good estate of the Church; that it may be so guided and governed by thy good Spirit, that all who profess and call themselves Christians may be led into the way of truth, and hold the faith in unity of spirit, in the bond of peace, and in righteousness of life. Finally, we commend to thy fatherly goodness all those, who are any ways afflicted, or distressed, in mind, body, or estate; [especially those for whom our prayers are desired;] that it may please thee to comfort and relieve them, according to their several necessities, giving them patience under their sufferings, and a happy issue out of all their afflictions. And this we beg for Jesus Christ his sake. Amen.

Eight Days That Changed the World

Here is your Holy Week companion with descriptions, explanations, meditations, and prayers for every day, from Palm Sunday to Easter.

I’m excited to announce that I have collected all the meditations I will offer next week inside a book called “Eight Days That Changed the World.” It is available as an ebook now for the price of, you guessed it, $6.12. Each of the eight chapters has:

1. A vivid description of the events that occurred on that Sunday 2000 years ago. What happened? Who was involved? What it meant.

2. A meditation or commentary by the author, David Roseberry, The Anglican.

3. A few discussion questions or prompts.

4. A Collect for the Day

Please access the book here.

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