Every time I read this passage in Psalm 38:17, my mind goes back many years to a still, quiet evening in Germany. I was at Bergen-Belsen, almost by accident, as I was in the area on business with a largely free evening. There, in the peaceful surroundings of rural farmland, I came across those verses, engraved on a white limestone slab from Jerusalem, which had been placed there on the occasion of a visit by Chaim Herzog, at the time the President of Israel.

When I was somewhat younger, I really had no idea what a Christadelphian Memorial Service looked like, because I stayed home with everyone except my father on Sunday afternoons (for it was an afternoon service). Indeed, with my father being recording brother, my mother did not get to memorial, except very occasionally, for perhaps decades.