Scars. They tell stories of wounds which occurred. Wounds that cut so deep. Went so far. Bled so much. They hurt. We cried. We were in pain. But the pain didn’t last. Eventually, the wound healed up. It closed. It mended. And we recovered. But it left a scar. A scar to remind us that even though we once were wounded, that we found healing, and we recovered. It left with us a reminder. It left us with a story to tell.
I don’t have any physical scars, but my brother does. I remember we were playing tackle football in our bonus room in the top floor of our house when we were younger. My brother had made it from one end of the room to the other, and he was just about to score a touchdown, when I reached for his legs. As I grabbed his legs, he proceeded to fall forward and the corner of his forehead hit the sharp edge of a book shelf.
There was blood everywhere. He was screaming bloody murder like I had just shot him. In that moment, all I could think about was that I was going to get in trouble. So I kept telling him “shut up, shut up. You’re going to get me in trouble.” Eventually we got Josiah to the hospital and got him all stitched up. He still has a little scar on the left side of his forehead to this day.
Why do I tell that story?
Well, as believers in this life we will suffer many wounds. Wounds from our friends. Our family. The world.
We will suffer in many ways. We will have cuts. We will have losses. We will struggle, and we will fall down. We will bleed. Emotionally. Spiritually. Mentally. As well as physically.
Each time that we are bruised, it will hurt. The words will sting. The disappointments will crush. The losses will paralyze. We will cry. We will be sad. We will have dark days.
As believers though, we will find healing.
The process of recovery may be long. It may be unpleasant. But it will happen.
Each time that we recover, and heal, we will grow. We will grow in our understanding. We will grow in our love. Our peace. Our relationship with Jesus.
As our recovery and healing occurs, scars will form. Some of these scars will be big. Others will be small. But each scar will tell of a wound that we faced. A cut that we experienced. A hurt. A loss that blindsided.
Our scars will tell our stories. Our stories of perseverance. Our stories of battle. Our stories of truth. Love. Hope. And joy.
They will tell how we continually got up when we had fallen down. They will tell of our battles with the dark principalities, and the dances with our desires.
Jesus also had scars. His scars were a reminder of the cross. His story. His sacrifice. His love. His victory.
“Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe” (John 20:27)
One day, our scars will tell our stories.
My hope one day is that I can face Jesus with all the scars I’ve accumulated. With all the many times I failed and fell. Will all the brokenness of my life. With all the struggle in my heart. And that I will be able to say, I didn’t give up. I never let go of you. I never stayed down. I didn’t give in. But I kept getting up. Over and over and over again. Because I believe that’s what faithfulness to Jesus is all about. Perseverance. Fighting for life. Straining for hope. Crying out for joy. Leaning on Jesus with everything you have.
I pray that one day my scars will tell of a life that was faithful to Jesus. That my scars will glorify Him, and that I will be welcomed in as a faithful servant and child of His.