The Treason of a Bad Memory Text: Psalm 78:9-11
Introduction: The Arsenal of Amnesia
We live in an age that is pathologically forgetful. Our culture suffers from a self-induced historical amnesia, and it is a terminal condition. We want the blessings of liberty without remembering the price that was paid for it. We want the stability of marriage without remembering the covenant that defines it. We want the fruits of Christendom without remembering the Christ who planted the tree. And in the church, we are often no better. We want the comfort of salvation without remembering the gory cross that secured it, and we want the promise of victory without remembering the battles God has already won for us.
This psalm, Psalm 78, is a long and sorrowful history lesson. It is a recital of God's faithfulness set against the backdrop of Israel's persistent, thick-headed faithlessness. The psalmist, Asaph, is not just dusting off old records for historical curiosity. He is laying a charge. He is showing his generation, and ours, that the root of all spiritual failure, the taproot of all apostasy, is a bad memory. Forgetting God is not a passive slip of the mind; it is an active, culpable, and treasonous act of the heart. It is the sin that makes all other sins possible.
In our text, we are given a case study in this failure. The tribe of Ephraim is put in the dock. They were a premier tribe, descended from Joseph, blessed by Jacob. They were numerous, powerful, and well-equipped for war. Yet, when the trumpet sounded and the battle was joined, they broke and ran. Why? The psalmist gives us a three-part diagnosis that is as relevant to the 21st-century American church as it was to ancient Israel. Their failure was not a failure of technology, but of theology. Their cowardice was not a matter of empty quivers, but of empty hearts. They were well-armed but spiritually malnourished. And the reason for this is laid bare: they broke covenant, they refused God's law, and they forgot His works. These three things are not separate problems; they are one catastrophic spiritual disease, and it is highly contagious.
We must understand this connection. Courage in the day of battle is never a standalone virtue. It is always the fruit of a life lived in faithful remembrance. A man who remembers what God has done will have no trouble believing what God will do. But a man who forgets God's past deliverances will always be a coward in the face of present dangers.
The Text
The sons of Ephraim were archers equipped with bows,
Yet they turned back in the day of battle.
They did not keep the covenant of God
And refused to walk in His law;
So they forgot His acts
And His wondrous deeds that He had shown them.
(Psalm 78:9-11 LSB)
Equipped for Failure (v. 9)
We begin with the baffling scene of their retreat.
"The sons of Ephraim were archers equipped with bows, Yet they turned back in the day of battle." (Psalm 78:9)
Notice the sharp contrast here. The psalmist goes out of his way to tell us that their failure was not due to a lack of preparation or resources. They were "archers equipped with bows." In the ancient world, archers were a formidable part of any army. They could project force from a distance. They were the artillery. To say they were "equipped" means they had everything they needed. They had the bows, the arrows, the training. From a human perspective, they were ready. They had the latest military hardware. Their quivers were full.
But equipment is never enough. You can have the finest theology books on your shelf, a dozen Bible translations on your phone, and a seat in the soundest church in town, but if the truth is not in your bones, you will fold when the pressure comes. Ephraim's problem was not in their hands, but in their hearts. They had the weapons of war, but they lacked the will for war. They looked the part of a soldier, but when the enemy crested the hill, when the shouting started and the cost became real, they "turned back in the day of battle."
This is a picture of utter disgrace. To turn back in the day of battle is the definition of cowardice. It is to betray your king, your brothers, and your God. And the psalmist wants us to feel the shame of it. They were not overwhelmed by a superior force. They were not outmaneuvered. They simply turned. They fled. This is a profound spiritual lesson for us. The greatest threat to the church is not the secular horde outside the gates. The greatest threat is the spiritual rot within. It is the man who carries a big Bible but has a small heart. It is the church that has all the right programs and a beautiful building but has lost its nerve. We are, in many sectors of the American church, the sons of Ephraim, fully equipped and retreating on all fronts.
Why? Because courage is a theological virtue. It flows directly from your doctrine of God. If you have a big God, you will be bold as a lion. If you have a small God, a manageable God, a God who is a celestial consultant but not a sovereign King, you will be as timid as a mouse. Ephraim's retreat was a doctrinal statement. Their actions confessed that they believed the enemy on the field was more powerful than the God in the heavens.
The Covenantal Collapse (v. 10)
The psalmist does not leave us guessing as to the cause of this cowardice. He immediately traces it back to its source in verse 10.
"They did not keep the covenant of God And refused to walk in His law;" (Psalm 78:10)
Here is the root of the rot. Their failure was, first and foremost, a covenantal failure. A covenant is a solemn, binding relationship established by God, sealed with blood and defined by oaths. For Israel, this was the Mosaic covenant, given at Sinai. It was their constitution, their identity. It defined who they were and whose they were. To be in covenant with Yahweh was to be on the side of the creator of the cosmos. It was to have the ultimate ally.
But they "did not keep" it. This is not about minor infractions or occasional stumbles. The language suggests a settled disposition, a fundamental disregard for the terms of their relationship with God. They treated the covenant like a contract with fine print they could ignore. But you cannot do that with God. To break covenant with God is to declare your independence from Him, which is the very definition of insanity. It is to unplug yourself from your only source of life and power.
And notice the second phrase: they "refused to walk in His law." This is not passive neglect; it is active rebellion. A refusal. The law of God, the Torah, was the gracious gift of a loving Father showing His children how to live. It was the pathway of blessing, the guardrails that kept them from driving off the cliff. But they saw it as a burden. They chafed under its demands. They wanted to walk their own way, according to their own appetites. This is the essence of all sin: "I will not have this man to reign over me."
The connection to their cowardice is direct and unavoidable. The covenant and the law were the source of their strength. It was in the covenant that God promised to be their God and fight for them. It was in the law that He gave them the wisdom and order that made them distinct and powerful. By abandoning the covenant, they forfeited the promises. By refusing the law, they embraced chaos. A man who is not walking in obedience to God's law has no reason to expect God's help in a fight. His conscience is compromised. He knows, deep down, that he is a fraud. And a man with a guilty conscience makes for a terrible soldier. He has no foundation to stand on, no assurance of divine favor. He is, in a word, on his own. And when a man is on his own in the day of battle, he runs.
The Great Forgetting (v. 11)
This covenantal rebellion and legal refusal lead directly to the ultimate sin, the sin that undergirds all others: a deliberate amnesia.
"So they forgot His acts And His wondrous deeds that He had shown them." (Psalm 78:11)
The "so" here is crucial. It shows the causal link. Because they would not obey, they chose to forget. Forgetting is a moral act. It is not that the miracles of the Exodus, the parting of the Red Sea, the manna from heaven, just slipped their minds like a misplaced set of keys. No, they actively suppressed the memory. They pushed it down. Why? Because to remember what God had done would be to acknowledge His authority and their obligation. To remember His "wondrous deeds" would be to remember His goodness, His power, and His right to command them.
Memory is the engine of faithfulness. This is why the Scriptures are filled with commands to "remember." Remember the Sabbath. Remember that you were slaves in Egypt. Do this in remembrance of Me. God knows that a remembering people are an obedient people, and an obedient people are a courageous people. When you remember the plagues that brought the mighty Egyptian empire to its knees, you are not so impressed with the chariots of the Canaanites. When you remember God parting the Red Sea, you are not so worried about the river at flood stage. When you remember God feeding a nation in the desert, you are not so anxious about your supply lines.
But Ephraim refused this spiritual discipline of remembrance. They wanted the freedom to disobey, and the price of that freedom was to forget. They traded the glorious history of God's mighty acts for the cheap thrill of momentary autonomy. And in doing so, they erased the very basis for their courage. When the battle came, they had no stories to tell their souls. Their minds were a blank slate where God's victories should have been written in bold letters. And so, with full quivers and empty hearts, they turned and fled.
Conclusion: Remember, Obey, Fight
The story of Ephraim is a cautionary tale written for our benefit. The diagnosis of their failure is the diagnosis of our own. Why is the modern church so often characterized by compromise, fear, and retreat in the face of cultural opposition? It is not because we lack resources. We have more books, more conferences, and more podcasts than any generation in history. We are, like Ephraim, "equipped with bows."
Our failure is a failure of memory, which is born from a failure of covenant faithfulness. We have treated our relationship with God as a casual affair. We have viewed His law not as a delight but as a drag. We have wanted a God who saves us from hell but does not have the right to command our Tuesday morning. And because we have refused to walk in His ways, we have found it convenient to forget His mighty acts.
The antidote is not a new program or a better strategy. The antidote is repentance that leads to remembrance. We must return to the covenant. We must acknowledge that we are not our own; we were bought with a price. We belong to God, and our lives are to be lived on His terms. This means we must joyfully embrace His law as the perfect law of liberty. We must stop making excuses and start walking in obedience.
And as we do this, we must consciously and deliberately remember. We must rehearse the great story. We must remember the cross, that ultimate "wondrous deed" where God defeated sin, death, and the devil. We must remember the empty tomb, the ultimate display of God's power over our greatest enemy. We must tell these stories to ourselves, to our children, and to the world. We must let these memories define our reality.
When a church is grounded in the covenant, walking in the law, and saturated with the memory of God's mighty acts in Christ, it becomes fearless. It does not matter what enemies are arrayed against it. It does not matter how well-armed they appear to be. Such a church knows that the God who raised Jesus from the dead is for them, and if God is for them, who can be against them? They will not turn back in the day of battle. They will stand, they will fight, and they will conquer, not because their bows are so great, but because their memory of God is.