I remember the days of old;
I meditate on all that you have done;
I ponder the work of your hands. Psalm 143:5

I was in Denver last week for the General Assembly of our denomination. While it was, I think, a good meeting in terms of content and outcomes, my greatest joy, as always, was the time spent with friends. I especially enjoyed a lunchtime conversation with someone I have known for a lifetime, dinner with friends from not so long ago, and what has become an annual face to face with a former colleague now a continent away. Perhaps my greatest joy came from the group of fellow pastors staying at the same hotel and with whom I shared more than one dinner or evening of good conversation. And they’re all young – young, as in young enough to be my sons (SPECIAL BONUS: Our son Christopher, the Air Force chaplain, was among them!).

Our last evening we were sitting around a patio table on a warm Colorado evening. Food, drink, and conversation were good. As it often happens when friends are together, we began to share stories of times past, the good old days. I decided it was best for me to just sit and listen.

“Remember when your parents had to print a map from MapQuest before a trip?” one of the thirty-somethings said, sweet nostalgia in his voice. Stories of MapQuest dead ends and Garmin failures followed.

“Remember when you had to go to AAA to order a TripTik or pick up a paper map you’d never refold into its original shape?” I thought but kept the memory to my Baby Boomer self.

I love having friends half my age, but, frankly, our good old days are not the same.

Memories of the way we were fill every good friendship.  They bring laughter and sometime tears. Memories bind us together and remind us of our common cause.

In Psalm 143:5, David, the sweet psalmist of Israel, writes, “I remember the days of old.”  Perhaps he and his friends regaled each other with stories of Philistine armies, a giant named Goliath, and a crazy king named Saul. Their remembering may have grown quiet as they remembered their fallen friend Jonathan.

Whatever the details of those memories, David summarizes them not as nostalgia, but as meditation on all God has done, pondering the work of God’s hands.

Yes, we laughed at funny stories, often about ourselves. We recalled hard times and defeats as often as victories. But what makes time with best friends, young and old, so rich and good is being able to meditate on all God has done and ponder the work of his hands.

The best memories of the days of old are memories of God’s great faithfulness.