We collect memories every day, not always realizing it. Memories aren’t just vacations, traditions, or major life events; rather, they are also tarnished photographs in the bottom drawer, or a too-small pair of comfy jeans, or the smell of a hospital mixed with Mom’s perfume.
Memories. They are a blessing and a curse, a priceless necklace that is beautiful but sometimes ill-fitting and most certainly nonreturnable. It was just given to us.
The first time I walked into my dorm room, #402. Standing beneath the Eiffel Tower and running down the Seine bank with a crepe in my hand. Trying ketchup for the first time, finding a spider in my bed when I was nine, having a kid in youth group confess a pornography addiction to me, being betrayed by a close friend when I was 17.
I find it interesting that Jesus was human.
Jesus had to redeem all aspects of our humanity,