The Velcro and the Teflon

Have you ever noticed that burdens seem to stick to us like Velcro, while blessings slide off like they’re coated in Teflon?

One unkind comment can camp out in our minds for three weeks, unpack its suitcase, rearrange the furniture, and invite relatives. Meanwhile, ten encouraging words stop by, wave politely, and leave before we’ve even offered them a chair.

I find that fascinating.

A person can compliment something I wrote, encourage me in my walk with God, tell me they see spiritual growth in my life, and somehow my brain files all that under “Nice. Moving on.” But let one person misunderstand me, criticize me, or look at me sideways, and suddenly my mind becomes a private detective agency determined to solve a case nobody asked it to investigate.

Why do we do that?

Part of it is simply human nature. We live in a world shaped by sin, and our minds have become remarkably skilled at spotting danger, disappointment, and loss. It’s almost as if our hearts assume that problems are urgent and blessings are optional. We replay hurts because we think we might learn something from them. We revisit fears because we think worrying might somehow prepare us for the future.

The strange thing is that it rarely does.

Jesus understood this tendency long before psychologists gave it a name. That may be one reason Scripture repeatedly calls us to remember. Not merely to remember facts, but to remember God’s faithfulness.

Throughout the Bible, God is constantly telling His people to look back—not at their wounds, but at His works.

“Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits” (Psalm 103:2).

That verse always makes me smile because it suggests forgetting blessings is a common problem. Nobody has to remind me to remember that awkward thing I said five years ago. My mind keeps that file in a fireproof safe with multiple backup copies. But God’s goodness? Apparently that requires intentional effort.

Israel struggled with the same thing.

God parted the Red Sea, fed them with manna, guided them with a pillar of cloud and fire, and provided water in the wilderness. Yet it often took only one hardship for them to forget a hundred mercies.

Before we’re too hard on them, we should probably admit we’ve all done the same thing.

God answers a prayer, provides exactly what we need, carries us through a trial, and then six months later a new problem arrives and we react as though He has never helped us before.

We can possess an entire history of God’s faithfulness and still panic over Tuesday.

I wonder if one reason burdens cling so tightly is because they keep our eyes fixed on ourselves, while blessings lift our eyes toward God.

A burden asks, “What am I going to do?”

A blessing quietly reminds us, “Look what God has already done.”

One shrinks our perspective. The other enlarges it.

That may be why gratitude is so powerful. Gratitude is not pretending problems don’t exist. It’s choosing not to let them occupy every seat at the table. It’s inviting God’s faithfulness into the conversation.

Paul wrote: “In every thing give thanks” (1 Thessalonians 5:18).

Notice he did not say for every thing. Some things are painful, heartbreaking, and deeply grievous. But even in those moments, there are evidences of God’s goodness if we slow down enough to notice them.

A friend who called at the right time.
Strength for one more day.
A verse that arrived exactly when it was needed.
A sunrise.
A laugh.
A door God opened.
A door God wisely kept shut.

Sometimes the blessings are not dramatic. They’re woven quietly into the ordinary fabric of life, like gold thread stitched through a garment. Easy to overlook unless you hold it up to the light.

I’ve come to believe that remembering is a spiritual discipline.

Anyone can remember their wounds. Our fallen nature helps with that.

Remembering God’s goodness often requires intention.
It means deliberately recounting answered prayers when fear shows up.
It means rehearsing God’s promises when discouragement starts giving speeches.
It means reminding our hearts that the God who carried us yesterday has not retired overnight.

The next time a burden starts demanding all your attention, try asking yourself a simple question: What blessing have I forgotten to remember?

You might discover that while the burden is loud, the blessing is still there—quietly waiting to be noticed.

And perhaps that’s one of faith’s greatest acts: not denying the darkness, but refusing to overlook the light.

After all, if God knows the number of the stars and calls them all by their names (Psalm 147:4), and if not even a sparrow is forgotten before Him (Luke 12:6), then surely the same God has left far more evidence of His care in our lives than our worries would have us believe.

Sometimes we just need to stop reading the chapter titled “Everything That Went Wrong” and spend a little more time in the volume called “All His Benefits.” The second book is much thicker than we think.

If this Fireside Chat warmed your spirit and sparked fresh resolve to live what you believe, fan that flame with Scripture—“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly” (Colossians 3:16). Pull a little closer to the Light, and carry it into the week ahead.

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