Serial (the Podcast) and God's Memory

How good is your memory? Hopefully better than Brian Williams’.

Can you remember where you were last Wednesday at 2:30? What about on the Wednesday at 2:30 six weeks ago? What if your freedom depended upon remembering such details?

For Adnan Syed, a teen convicted for a 1999 murder, a lapse in memory was quite detrimental. Adnan’s story is being told on the popular podcast, Serial. The podcast is a page-turning courtroom drama in audio form. Except that it’s a true story and the author doesn’t know the outcome. Its host is former ABC News, New York Times, and Baltimore Sun reporter Sarah Koenig.

Adnan is now in his early 30s and has spent half of his life behind bars. He has repeatedly declared his innocence in the murder of Hae Minn Lee, his former girlfriend and classmate at Baltimore’s Woodlawn High School. A friend of Adnan’s asked Koenig to study the case. In the podcast, Koenig chronicles her findings. She investigates like a prize-winning reporter and then narrates her discoveries in away that hooks you from the beginning.

The state’s case against Adnan is weak. There’s no DNA or physical evidence linking him to the murder. There’s one key witness. But there’s also Adnan’s faulty memory. By the time Lee’s body was found and the witness fingered Adnan, six weeks had passed. He doesn’t have much of an alibi because, well, he can’t remember what he was doing. He says this is because the day of Lee’s murder was a regular, normal, unmemorable day.

Adnan did do some fishy things on the day Lee disappeared. Sometimes you think he surely killed her. Other times, at least for me, you think there’s no way he did it. Which is the beauty of the podcast. Even Koenig says she doesn’t decisively believe Adnan or not.

As I get older, my memory seems to be getting as weak as my creaky right knee. I can recount every game of the 1984 World Series, but I’m not sure I can list all 33 of the students I taught last year. The 1988 NBA Finals stand out like they occurred yesterday. I’m pretty sure Miami and San Antonio met in the most recent Finals. But I’m not positive. I’ve never needed to keep a calendar of appointments. However, I’m now using a wall calendar since that day last year when I forgot to show up in court for a traffic ticket.

I’m sure we all have things we’d like to forget. The pain of a breakup. The harsh words of a colleague. Junior High … all of it. I’m finding that the more I love someone, the easier it is to forget something painful they’ve said or done. A parent, a sibling, a close friend – people I love and care for deeply – at one time or another have hurt me. Sometimes there’s a need to talk it out, but most of the time it’s not necessary. I think a greater love produces a greater forgetfulness. But for some reason, that same ability to forget doesn’t always apply to those farther down the love scale: a co-worker, a neighbor, or an acquaintance. What’s up with that?

You know who’s great at not remembering things?

God.

In Isaiah 43:15 God says, “I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more.” There is a difference between forgetting and not remembering. It’s not like God’s up in heaven struggling to find his keys to the pearly gates or forgetting where he placed his snow-making machine. Nor does he misremember events.

God’s memory is selective. He chooses to not remember.

Forgetting is what our fallible minds do. God, on the other hand, makes a choice not to bring our transgressions to his mind. Ever. To remember no more is God’s Common Core math equation of total forgiveness. My Sins + His Memory = Absolute Forgiveness.

Additionally, God doesn’t allow our sins to creep into his peripheral vision. Instead he hurls them into the depths of the sea (Micah 7:19). God’s must have quite an arm because he throws our sins a hefty distance. How far? As far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12).

To keep from forgetting, we write things down or make notes in our phones. Not so with God. He doesn’t have a note-pad or a sin-tracking app on his tablet. Psalm 130:3-4 says, “If you O Lord, kept a record of sins, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness: therefore you are feared.”

Of course, God wants us to follow his example. In the famous love chapter, I Corinthians 13, Paul writes that love “does not keep a record of wrongs”. And here’s where the rubber of the gospel has to meet the road of my heart. If I’m to love, forget, and forgive like God, then I can’t bring to my mind the times I’ve been slighted in the past by someone farther down the love scale. For to truly love someone … even just a little … you have to forgive as if you love them a lot. If a greater love produces a greater forgetfulness, and if God never remembers our sins … what does that say about how magnificent His love is for his children?

There’s new hope for Adnan, as the Maryland Court of Appeals is going to hear his case on the grounds that his attorney may have botched his defense. I hope you’ll check out Serial. Perhaps you’ll be as unsure as Koenig about Adnan’s guilt. The sands of uncertainty can be a scary place on which to stand. It’s powerful to remember that when it comes to God’s love and forgiveness, his children never have to find themselves walking on such unsteady soil.

What Kind of Super Bowl Viewer are You?

Today’s the big game. Super Bowl 49. Seahawks vs. Patriots.

There are three types of Super Bowl viewers. First there’s the Diehard Football Fan (DFF) who actually watches the game and knows in the depths of his soul that it is a meaningful, life-altering sporting event.

Then there is the Casual Observer (CO) who knows a little bit about football but is really more interested in the commercials and the halftime show.

Lastly, there is the Party Goer (PG) who hasn’t watched a minute of football all year and who only cares about the commercials and the halftime show.

As a DFF, I think it best to watch the game with only DFFs on a TV as big as a Winnebago. But wives and girlfriends make this nearly impossible. It might have been possible back in college, if you had no social life and were only friends with other DFFs who were also void of a social life. However, one DFF would typically ruin the purity of the viewing experience by inviting a CO or have, God forbid, a PG girlfriend to invite.

Many people today will be gathered in a friend's or relative's home for the game. In these situations, there is a viewing hierarchy that must be carefully respected. The DFFs claim the couches and chairs closest to the TV. There will probably be a coffee table in the center filled with snacks and red Solo cups. The DFFs have to sit close together so they can dissect each moment of action and high-five each other after every exciting play.

DFFs have to ration their beverage intake because they know they can’t go to the bathroom until halftime. It’s too risky to lose your seat to a CO and have to stand for a series of downs. Also, if a DFF has a CO or a PG for a spouse there will be a secret pact stating that the CO/PG periodically refill the DFF’s plate with nachos, pizza rolls, and little smokies. As payback the CO/PG gets to choose the restaurant for Valentine’s Day.

The COs stand behind the couches, or if they’re lucky enough, they can sit on an armrest. A CO also likes to walk the room and chat with a PG, not caring if he or she misses a play or two. Sometimes a CO will overreact to a play on the field or cheer too loudly at the wrong moment. This will usually draw a chuckle and a raised brow from a DFF. A CO is also a perfect host because he or she can step out to the BBQ and bring in the next round of hot dogs and burgers.

The PGs gather in the back of the room or mingle in the kitchen. They have specially trained ears that know to the millisecond when a commercial break is forthcoming. They then sprint to the CO standing zone vehemently exhorting everyone to shut up. This will annoy the COs because without fail, one will get hip-checked into the ficus tree next to the fireplace. The DFFs will be even more annoyed because the PGs have been drowning out the announcers for the entire game. No DFF in his right mind would ever think of shushing a PG. Talk about the biggest party foul ever. The DFFs have to show restraint, crane their necks, and inch toward the TV like the Millennium Falcon being sucked into the Death Star in order to hear Al Michaels and Chris Collinsworth call the game. Most of the time not being able to hear Collinsworth is considered a good thing.

The PGs will watch the commercials in awe and wonder, as if each one was Madison Avenue’s equivalent to The English Patient. Once the game returns, the PGs will swoon back into their areas, Facebooking and Twittering about the masterpieces they just witnessed. The DFFs, glad that the game has resumed, will shake their heads in mock disbelief. But then Marshawn Lynch will break eight tackles en route to a 65-yard touchdown run and the DFFs will hoot, holler, jump round, and dance like they just won the Powerball. They’ll use words like power, grace, speed, and athleticism. They’ll nearly faint. Back in the kitchen, the PGs will shake their heads and raise both eyebrows in mock disbelief.

At halftime, the room's hierarchy will turn with quiet precision. The PGs will take the couches and the DFFs will scatter to the four corners of the house (after using the restroom). The DFFs will check-in with the host CO at the BBQ. They’ll see what’s left to eat in the kitchen or maybe go out to the street and toss the pigskin around with the kids. It’s very important for the DFFs who are married to PGs to take over all kid duties during the halftime concert. This will ensure that there will be a Valentine’s Day to be celebrated.

The second half will be a repeat of the first. But, something magical will occur if the game is close down the stretch. A a hush will overtake the room as one team drives down the field for the winning score. The COs will squeeze into the DFF zone. The PGs will occupy the vacated CO area. As Tom Brady or Russell Wilson hoists one last pass into the end zone everybody in the room will hold their breaths. A transformation will occur. The PGs and the COs will all be DFFs. It will be a room of football viewing perfection. It will last for a mere instant.

The ball will be caught or dropped. Collective shouts of excitement will shake the heavens. The game will end. The group huddled in unity will begin to disperse. And someone, a PG most likely, on her way back to the kitchen will whisper, “That was the best game I’ve ever seen.”

Pats by four.