Sacred Memories

The first time I ever conciously decided to follow Christ was in a bathtub. Yes, there are more glorious places to make that decision, but this is the simple beauty of how the where of my choice to follow Him has affected my life. Almost anytime I take a shower, I think of God.

In college, I had the glorious task of cleaning the dorm kitchen. (I can still smell the cleaning spray I used on the grease splattered stove.) My kitchen-cleaning job was about forty minutes a day, and I usually took that time to pray. I vacuumed and prayed; I scrubbed down the sink and prayed. I recently revisited that kitchen, and I felt like I was returning to hallowed ground.

So much of life is intertwined with memory. For example, the smell of a certain bush at my college can take me back to my life in California or a Chris Rice can make me relive my first couple months in Florida.

I want to consciously overlay my life with memories of God. I want the smells, sights, tastes, and sounds of my ordinary day to be so ingrained with sacred memories that everything I encounter will turn my heart toward Him.