The Scars Speak

There is a story behind every scar.  Some are a result of an accident or work injury.  On my body I have scars from injuries I caused, and some caused by others.  Over time the scars may fade, but the wound is not easily forgotten.  I used to have a scar running down the bridge of my nose given me by my brother.  He wanted to "play dinosaurs," and my dinosaur playing days were over seconds after I agreed to the game!  I still bear the scar of a see-saw being slammed into my face and opened my lower lip on the playground in primary school.  In my right eyebrow is hidden a scar I am responsible for.  When I worked in my trade a pulled on a wire with end-nippers.  The wire snapped and boom!  I whacked myself in the face and opened up a deep gash.  For the most part, my scars are a testimony of carelessness or folly - either mine or of someone else.

There is one scar I earned worthily.  I was probably around eight or nine years old when my dad asked me to hold the lead of our dog Max in the front yard.  Max was a strong dog, an Akita-Lab mix that certainly outweighed me at the time.  He was not yet trained to "come when called" and whenever he ran off, he was tough to catch.  I remember my dad telling me:  "Don't let go!"  Then he went back into the house for some reason.  Max was content to stay in the yard...for a minute anyway!  Suddenly he became aware of a dog or a cat across the street and jumped through our split rail fence.  I was immediately yanked off my feet and pulled headlong through the fence, and my dangling legs kept me from being pulled Indiana Jones-style down the footpath.  I had wrapped the lead around my wrist and hung on, remembering what Dad said.  So as Max strained I balanced on my belly on the lower rail and yelled for rescue.  It was not long before my dad responded.  After he extricated me from the fence and lead, I noticed blood on my right hand.  As Max pulled me through the fence, the wood took a little chunk of skin from my middle finger.  It has faded over time but it remains a testimony of my hanging on with stubborn obedience to please my dad.  It is a worthy scar.

There are no scars more worthy than the nail pierced hands and feet of Jesus Christ.  In obedience to the Father with a heart filled with joy and love, Jesus embraced the cross for sinful man.  Today, almost 2,000 years later, His scars still speak.  They speak of love, sacrifice, and obedience.  They are proof of Christ's divine condescension, that He is God made into human flesh.  He knows what it feels like to be rejected, ridiculed, tortured, abused, and murdered, though innocent of all crimes.  Scars are not revered for their beauty, but those scars on the brow, hands, feet, and side are the most beautiful of all.  God has provided Jesus Christ's suffering on the cross as the primary portrait of His everlasting, gracious love toward all people.  May His sacrifice never be cheapened or forgotten.  His scars still speak to all who will listen.

What is your response to those scars, those wounds Christ bore for you?  He died so you might live.  Are you willing to reach out in faith and acknowledge those scars were made for you?  John 20:26-31 describes a scene after Christ's resurrection from the dead:  "And after eight days His disciples were again inside, and Thomas with them. Jesus came, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, "Peace to you!" ²⁷ Then He said to Thomas, "Reach your finger here, and look at My hands; and reach your hand here, and put it into My side. Do not be unbelieving, but believing." ²⁸ And Thomas answered and said to Him, "My Lord and my God!" ²⁹ Jesus said to him, "Thomas, because you have seen Me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." ³⁰ And truly Jesus did many other signs in the presence of His disciples, which are not written in this book; ³¹ but these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in His name."