Being an apologist means never having to say you're sorry.
“But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, He shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you.” (John 14:26, emphasis mine)
I find that whenever God does something in my life, the memory of the event stands out like an open flame in the distance on a dark night. Like it’s ingrained forever on the slate of my mind. As an aside, who knows what corresponds neurologically with those memories (because sometimes I’m loathe to resort to physiological reasons only for the inherent weirdness of life)? It doesn’t take long, when dwelling on God’s goodness in our lives, to return to the state in which we found ourselves at the time. No matter how far out you get in your life from the way things were when you touched God and He touched you, only dwell on the beauty that God gave you in the past and it will flow into your now. It’s the (super)natural order of things. How much time and energy we are willing to invest in dredging these things up (for lack of a better term) will tell in how much we want God to change any less-than-pleasant, present circumstances, should need be.
From the French and literally meaning “already seen”. I’m sure there’s a good reason why it happens. And when it does happen, while I’m generally more interested in ferreting out a substantive memory to fill that void, I always emerge from its moment with a sense of rational peace knowing that “I’ve been through this before”. Were I to ever find in my memory the actual instance to which the déjà vu corresponded, would that prove the reality of the feeling? Because if God’s real, who’s to say the feeling wasn’t? But… Oh my. It’s already gone.
“Commit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established” (Proverbs 16:3, emphasis mine)
That one means “almost seen”. The tip of your tongue. There’s a name for that one, too. I find it amusing that there would be a name for that which we’re unable to name. That just-the-right-word for the context but you forgot. That person’s name. What was it again? The thing you were gonna say before you got derailed or sidelined. Presque vu. I believe the Holy Spirit keeps everything that bubbles up from our heart and mind and sometimes, if I don’t remember what I need to say, I just lay back and rest in that knowledge, that feeling of knowing. He won’t let you forget if it’s something that really needs to be said. Trust.
“The preparations of the heart in man, and the answer of the tongue, is from the Lord.” (Proverbs 16:1)
If you want to experience this, (it’s like the opposite of déjà vu) take a word, any word that you can think of—the shorter the better—and just start writing it over and over until it just becomes a sequence of black marks (or blue, whatever color ink or graphite or lead) on a page. That feeling? When your mind strays into seeing that word as something foreign and unfamiliar, is called jamais vu. It’s not recognizing the familiar for what you know it is. And it’s just as weird as the other two.
There’s a name for it, you know. They’re called feelings of knowing and while everyone has them and experiences them at one time or another, I think the level to which we trust them necessarily corresponds with the love we have for ourselves—and God, ultimately. The mind is an amazing thing but it’s not who we are. Who we are, as weird and semantically off as this might sound, is: loved by God. That’s it. We will never get over and beyond that definition. We are loved. It doesn’t matter how much you attain in this world, the station which you leave behind, or the structure in your mind. If you don’t realize this primal fact, you’ll always be on the outside of life looking in.
“…whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.” (1 Corinthians 13:8b-10)
“When the solution is simple, God is answering.” Albert Einstein