life, it seems like those histories go with us to heaven too. We will arrive in the kingdom of God carrying our stories. Indeed, if Christ’s resurrection is the firstfruits, we will arrive at the marriage supper of the Lamb with our scars. It’s hard not to imagine someone at that banquet of joy turning to ask, “Tell me about that scar,” and somehow, in ways that are unthinkable to me now, I will be able to revisit my history without pain or trauma, not because the memory card of my mind has been erased but because now I can see only the unique mosaic that is redeemed, rescued me, the tapestry
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