In concept, I thought memorizing scripture was a really good idea. I thought about doing it often. But it wasn’t until I began seminary and scripture memorization became homework that I actually began to memorize Bible verses.  After mastering an initial list of verses to be used for leading worship, I was inspired to continue. I had memorized the first three verses of Psalm 103 and added more verses from that Psalm to recite when serving home communion to my hospice patients. I read a devotional study that encouraged scripture memorization and added those verses to what I had memorized. Whenever I had free time, like while waiting for one of our kids, or on long drives, or during sleepless nights, I filled those hours reviewing my verses.

Scripture memorization became an unexpected benefit of insomnia. Because those verses were hidden deeply in my heart, no sleep meant my memory of God’s word went deeper. It was comforting to finally fall asleep with scripture verses rolling through my mind.

I don’t sleep well when major change is happening, like when our daughter got married, when we moved from one state to another, and right now, as my husband and I prepare to move once again and I look for a new job. I’m not sleeping, which means I’m returning to reviewing scripture in the night. Except this time there was a chunk of verses I knew I was forgetting. For the life of me, they wouldn’t come back. Finally, I returned to my original list to find the reference. “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again, rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Exactly when I needed them, in the midst of another huge life change with many unknowns, God gave me back these words from Philippians 4:4-7. Familiar and well-loved, I know, but God spoke to me during a sleepless night of worry. I re-discovered God’s invitation to pray, God’s promise of peace, and God’s gentle reminder not to worry about anything.

Saying I re-discovered the verses is one way of looking at it. Another is to say that God spoke to me using his own words that I had already committed to memory.

This is how God speaks—at least in my life. I don’t hear a voice thundering from the sky. It’s certainly not dramatic. It doesn’t even alter the direction of my life. It’s just God, from scripture, gently reminding me of who he is and how he feels about me.

A young mom I counseled several years ago asked me, “When God speaks to you, do you hear God’s voice? How does that work? I don’t understand what people mean when they say that. I don’t think God has ever spoken to me.” She speaks for many with her admission of not hearing God speak. She was confused because she’d heard others say, “God spoke to me,” with such confidence. I told her in my experience God uses words he’s already given us and reminds us of them at just the right time.

Here’s another example: During my first two weeks of seminary in August, 2015, my class visited Sinsinawa Convent in Sinsinawa, Wisconsin, for an afternoon retreat. We were invited to use the space and time in any way we needed. I was hoping to hear God’s voice confirming my call to seminary.  As I walked the prayer labyrinth on the Sinsinawa grounds, I soaked up the silence and felt the hot sun beating on me, which reminded me of a verse I had memorized when my son was a freshman in a college seven hours from home: “I have covered you with the shadow of my hand—I who set the heavens in place, who laid the foundations of the earth, and who say to Zion, ‘You are my people.’” Those words came back as I walked the labyrinth and I experienced them as God’s gift as I entered the new territory of seminary.

With renewed joy and gratefulness, I completed the outdoor labyrinth and went in search of the indoor labyrinth, wanting to experience prayer in the cool darkness of the chapel as well. I walked the indoor labyrinth filled with peace, thankful for how God had spoken to me. But God wasn’t done. As I thought again of those words from Isaiah 51, I remembered the first phrase of the passage, which I had temporarily forgotten: “I have put my words in your mouth.” It dropped me to my knees in the labyrinth. I was already grappling with daunting seminary assignments and papers, and wondered if I was up to the challenge. I was experiencing imposter syndrome, believing there was no way I would be able to fulfill the rigorous expectations. In the midst of my profound doubt, God repeated a phrase that I had memorized several years before: “I have put my words in your mouth.” God’s call to seminary became a fresh call, a confirmed call, in hearing this promise of supplying what I would need. They weren’t my words, but God’s. As I write this article, I’m acutely and gratefully aware of God putting words in my heart and mind that I move to paper.

God has said to me: Don’t worry, Laura, remember to bring it all to me in prayer. God also said to me: I will put my words in your mouth. This is what I think God means in Ezekiel 3:1-2 when he says, “Eat what you see. Eat this book.” As Ezekiel opened his mouth, God gave him the scroll to eat and said again, “Eat this book that I am giving you. Make a full meal of it!” Isn’t this a way to think about memorizing scripture? We eat the words of a section. We chew them and ruminate on them as we commit the words to memory. They became part of us.

I recently heard a doctor emphasize the importance of having enough protein in our diets so that we feel full. Protein doesn’t digest as quickly; it remains inside us, renewing and rebuilding our bodies. Similarly, memorized scripture doesn’t move through our bodies. Scripture remains, renewing and restoring our hearts, souls, and minds. Our hearts beat with God’s words creating the rhythm.

After Ezekiel had eaten the scroll, he exclaimed, “It tasted good—just like honey.” That sleepless night when I recalled Philippians 4:4-7, those verses tasted good to my soul. God reminded me gently to choose conversation with him over fretting and worrying. God’s words were a full meal that satisfied and sustained me.

In Mark 7, the Pharisees complained because Jesus’s disciples didn’t wash their hands before eating. Jesus responded with disappointment: “You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to human traditions.”  The Pharisees’ focus was on something external; Jesus focused instead on the internal state of their hearts. Human traditions are often junk food that leave us hungry. God’s commands, God’s words of love, instruction, and encouragement, are protein that fill us and renew us. They are an energy source.

In the book Understanding Christian Mission: Participation in Suffering and Glory, Scott Sundquist writes: “The only way God’s Word can be a light . . . is if the Word of God is first in our hearts. God will bring to remembrance what we have learned from his Word; it will be available for the Spirit’s inspiration, if we have it in our heart.” I love this quote about scripture memorization in a book about Christian mission, and love the promise that God’s word is available to inspire us when it is already hidden in our hearts.

Yet I also felt reluctant to write this piece on the importance of memorizing scripture. As I noted at the beginning, memorization was something I’d wanted to do for many years before it became a seminary homework assignment. Offering this practice to you is risky, because we often choose to shame ourselves when we read about a good practice others do, but we have never been able to sustain ourselves. I truly don’t want you to beat yourself up for not memorizing the Bible.

At the same time, memorization has impacted my life deeply. As a hospice chaplain, I was visiting a patient who struggled with her relationship with God; her life had been a disappointment and she was no longer connected to God. Then she announced to me one day that she was working on memorizing Psalm 23. I was thrilled for this Spirit-inspired desire that had formed in her. I told her I would memorize the chapter along with her. I found memorizing Psalm 23 easy, because I had read it at almost hospital visitation I did and every funeral I conducted. My encouragement is to begin with scripture you love, that you find yourself returning to for comfort. Keep reading it. And then begin memorizing the passage, phrase by phrase, and you may discover that memorization is not so hard.

What if it is hard? I was introduced briefly to asceticism in seminary, the practice of training our bodies and minds by denying ourselves in order to grow closer to God. For example, the most successful athletes are successful because of discipline, day in and day out. In that sense, elite athletes have embraced asceticism. Father Donald Haggerty, author of St. John of the Cross: Master of Contemplation, offers this perspective. In ascetic practices, I am “training the will to be more open to very full yesses to God and also to not giving in to myself.” Memorizing scripture is a training of our mind to know more fully and more deeply God’s mind.

The challenge to do this hard thing isn’t about doing it perfectly, but to try it. You will fail. I can go several weeks without reviewing scripture and it has been a while since I’ve worked on learning new verses. I take heart in what Duke professor and Everything Happens podcaster Kate Bowler writes about New Year’s resolutions. She’s not for them, but she is for trying. She invites us to try because “trying to try is a refusal of this fantasy [of perfection].”

Try something new to hear God speak. Memorize the words God’s already given, and God’s words will return to you . . . when you really need them. God’s words will feel fresh and new and given just for you, because in your moment of need, God’s words are just for you. I invite you to try.