(16) From the fear of being forgotten, deliver me, Jesus.

It’s not loud.
It doesn’t scream or shove.
It just lingers—quietly—in the corners of the heart.

The fear of being forgotten.

Not hated.
Not rejected.
Just… not remembered.

It sounds like:

“Did they even notice I wasn’t there?”
“Would anyone check on me if I disappeared?”
“I used to matter. Do I still?”

We don’t always say it out loud.
We try to shake it off—act like it doesn’t bother us.
But deep down, something aches.

Because we were made to be remembered.
Seen. Known. Named.

Sometimes the fear sneaks in through seasons of life:

  • When the people we’ve poured into seem to move on without us

  • When we give and serve and no one says thank you

  • When we’re aging and feel like a fading picture in the background

  • When we pray and pray, and it feels like even You, Lord, have gone quiet

Even David cried out:

“I am forgotten as though I were dead;
I have become like a broken vessel.”

(Psalm 31:12)

And Jesus—you know that feeling too.

You healed ten. Only one came back.
You carried your cross alone.
You hung between heaven and earth and cried,

“My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”

But even in that moment—you weren’t forgotten.

And neither are we.

Because You said:

“Can a mother forget her nursing child?
Though she may forget, I will not forget you.
See, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands.”

(Isaiah 49:15–16)

You remember every name.
Every moment.
Every tear. (“You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in Your bottle.” – Psalm 56:8)

You remember the faithfulness no one saw.
The offering no one thanked.
The quiet sacrifices we made when no one else was looking.

So deliver us, Jesus.

Not from invisibility—because sometimes You ask us to be hidden.
But from the fear that our hiddenness means we’ve been forgotten.

Let us rest in knowing You see us.
Let us stop scrambling to stay relevant.
Let us stop performing to be remembered.
Let us be content to be engraved on Your hands.

Because if You remember us…
that is enough.

Amen.


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(17) From the Fear of Being Ridiculed, deliver me, Jesus.

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(15) From the fear of being calumniated, deliver me, Jesus.