God of Reminders

A gentle return to what He already said

We forget, don’t we?

We carry our Bibles, sometimes with underlined pages and highlighted verses, but often our hearts feel far from the words we once clung to. We scroll past Scripture online and whisper, “I should remember that,” but can’t quite recall the reference. Life is heavy. The noise is constant. And somewhere in the middle of the mess, we forget what was left for us.

But God knew we would.

He knew how often fear would rise, how rejection would sting, how loss would leave us breathless. He knew pride would try to take root, shame would speak loud, and grief would come and stay longer than we expected. He knew the ache of being human.

And so He gave us reminders.

Not cold commands, not guilt-laced expectations, but gentle truths layered into the very fabric of Scripture. Repeated, tender, written-in-advance kind of words. He gave us exactly what we would need for the days when we’d forget who He is and who we are.

Over and over, He says, “Do not fear.”

Not because fear is sinful, but because it’s common. He knows how often it rises uninvited and how quickly it takes over. So He keeps reminding us. Again and again.

When the world feels harsh and we feel discarded, He doesn’t just remind us that we matter. He says, “You are Mine.” “You are loved.” “I have called you by name.” Not just once, not just when we’re doing well, but every single time we forget.

When grief crashes in, when it steals our breath and leaves everything numb, He leans close. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,” He says. “He saves those crushed in spirit.” He doesn’t rush us past the pain. He enters it with us.

And when pride tries to mask the exhaustion of striving, He speaks again. “The humble will be lifted.” “My grace is sufficient.” “Blessed are the meek.” He calls us lower, not to shame us, but to hold us.

Lovely, can I tell you something?

You don’t have to know every verse by heart. You don’t have to recite chapter and verse or pretend you have Scripture tattooed on your memory. You don’t need a library of references to be loved by God.

What matters is that the truth He speaks can find its way into your soul.

Let His whisper settle in. Let it carry you. Let it come when the tears fall and the strength fades. That’s the power right there. Not in our performance. But in the kindness of a God who already knew what we’d need before we even asked.

He planned ahead.

He placed words like seeds in soil, so when the storm came, and we felt like we were losing ground, we could dig deep and remember what was sown.

And even when we forget, the Holy Spirit remembers.

Even when we are overwhelmed, He brings the right words to mind.

Even when we don’t know what to say, He fills in the gaps.

You’re not failing because you can’t recall every verse. You’re not less spiritual because you sometimes need to be reminded. You’re human. And you’re held.

The God of reminders doesn’t shame you for forgetting. He just keeps showing up to tell you again.

His reminders are grace. His voice is gentle. And His love does not waver based on what you do or don’t remember. It is steady. Always.

So today, let yourself exhale. Open your hands. And hear it fresh once more:

You are not alone.

You are not unseen.

You are not behind.

You are loved.

You are chosen.

You are still part of the story.

“But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and remind you of everything I have said to you.” John 14:26

He hasn’t forgotten you. He hasn’t stopped speaking. And He will remind you again.

As many times as it takes. He is the God of reminders…

Love, Sarah x.

Thank you for meeting me here.

I know I write in waves, in moments when the ache rises or the quiet gets loud, and somehow you always seem to land right in the middle of it. That’s never lost on me. Your presence here, reading these scattered pieces of my heart, means more than I can say.

This space was never meant to be polished. Just honest. Just real.

If something here has spoken to you, and you’d like to support what I’m building with Jesus, you can share this post, upgrade to paid, or even leave a one-time gift. There’s never pressure, only gratitude.

It’s just me in this little corner, trying to hold the sacred and the shattered all at once. And I’m so glad you’re here.