Lately I’ve been thinking about scars.
How come our all-knowing God didn’t have the foresight to incorporate more elasticity into my skin? Knowing all the stuff I’d go through, how come He didn’t make it so I’d heal mark-free? I mean, it’s not like I’d ever forget having a baby, or that too much sun causes skin cancer.
Or would I?
When I read my Bible I see God is big on remembering. The Old & New Testaments are chucked full of memorials. There are stone piles, wells, rituals, festivals, ceremonies, sacraments—all designed and instigated by God to help us remember.
I think that’s what scars are about.
When I see the mark on my forehead I’m reminded to put on my sunscreen. The dent on my hand reinforces the importance of training a dog properly, and conversely, the consequences of slacking off. My caesarian scar…having kids has changed me forever.
Not all scars are external.
Careless words wound. Forgiveness withheld cripples. Hope denied destroys.
God, through His love, can and does heal our wounds so they’re no longer gaping, festering sores.
But like physical scars, internal scars are a constant reminder for us to
Speak in love
Forgive as we’ve been forgiven
I’m thankful for my scars.
Each day they remind me that God is in the business of healing wounds.
His hand is on me.
His love is with me.
He is faithful.
He is worthy of my trust and my worship.