Scars

Read through the comments on this one. People have written some good things and it is worth hearing thier thoughts also.


I have fair skin. In fact, some of my more melanin blessed friends seem to think I may be slightly albino (thank you Eddie). It must be the Irish, Scottish, French, German, British blood that gives me the light skin, blonde hair, blue green eyes. Face it people I am about as WASPy as you can get.

So I have the kind of skin that guarantees you will be bright red if you spend any significant amount of time in the sun. It is also the type of skin that guarantees I will have a scar from any type of cut, burn, wound I happen to receive.

I wondered why people actually get scars, why the skin just doesn’t grow back as it was before. The cliff notes version is that when a burn, scrape, cut, wound is deep enough, the body works quickly to try and repair itself. In doing so it uses, maybe not the best materials, but the most efficient for the circumstances. Dense and thick, it is usually paler than the surrounding tissue because it is poorly supplied with blood, and although it structurally replaces destroyed tissue, it cannot perform the functions of the missing tissue. The human body amazes me in that it can repair horrible injuries, it can compensate when extreme things happen to it and while it may not be exactly the same as it was before it will survive and continue on.

In fact, I have quite a collection of scars. Many from a childhood of being the neighborhood tomboy who ran with all the boys. I have scars from climbing trees, playing war, all kinds of sports (kickball, football, tag, hide and seek, and any other game we considered sport). Then there were the scars from my chronic clumsiness. I fall down, I run into things, I accidentally cut myself, scrape myself, pretty much if it falls under the category of clumsy I have done it, and done it well and many times.

From all these adventures I have built up a timeline of sorts on my body. I have stories and memories that go with each scar. Like the one where I was trying to learn how to surf as a kid and ran into a wooden piling in the ocean and took a chunk out of my shin. Or the time when my sisters threw a stick at a woodpile directly behind where I was standing and I happened to turn my face into the stick. Then there's the scar from the traumatic removal of cysta. Stories from my past, some funny, some scary, some just a happy or painful memory.

We all have these scars; we all have stories for each one. They are a timeline of our lives, marking stories. They chronicle who we are, where we’ve been, and what we’ve done.

But then, there are other scars, scars that aren’t left by a cut or a scrape. These scars might not be visible to another person, at least not visible by sight alone. The scars are left from times when we have been hurt emotionally or when we have fallen into bondage to sin. Scars from when our heart has been pierced, or torn, or even ripped to shreds. Scars from where we wore chains of bondage to different things in our life: addiction, control, pride, self image. These scars aren’t visible as a line on our heart or rings on our wrists. But they are visible in our actions, our fears, our emotions, our relationships. There is a time line with these scars also. And some wounds are scarred over and over again.

These scars also tell a story. If we thought and remembered only what caused the scars then the stories would be painful, they would be a haunting memory we would carry with us our entire life. But each story has a common ending, an ending that makes the stories worthwhile, that makes the scars worthwhile and makes them a treasured part of who we are.

See, the story of each of these scars is one of victory. Victory that we came through the pain, the hurt, the bondage. Victory that those things were conquered in our life. Yes, there was pain, there was hurt. And the scars will always be there, they will never go away. And like a physical scar there are consequences, there was a price paid and something given up. Remember with a physical scar the scar structurally replaces destroyed tissue, but it cannot perform the functions of the missing tissue. Likewise in an emotional scar or one of bondage, there are areas of weakness, areas of temptation, but the pain is gone, the bondage is gone. Victory has come.

There is someone else who knows the pain of scars, both physical and emotional. Christ’s body was subjected to tremendous torture. His back was whipped, His head gouged, His hands and feet penetrated by spikes, His side pierced. His physical body was horribly scarred from all of these traumatic punishments. Each a reminder of the anger and unfairness aimed at Him. He also suffered emotional scars: denied by His disciples, hated by His people, falsely accused, separated from God. Christ carries scars from all of these. But his scars symbolize a victory also. The victory of His life, the victory of conquering death, but most important the victory of our lives. Christ’s scars represent His victory of overcoming our sin, our separation, our death. Christ’s scars are our victory.

So when I look at scars, both visible and not, I don’t see failures, pain, or bad memories, I see victory. Not of my own doing, but of God and his freedom, his grace, the price he paid so long ago that allows us to claim victory in Him. To see past the pain, the wound, the scar, to see the life that comes afterward and continues.

There is a hymn that our church’s worship team reworked. I really like the song and there is one verse in particular that seems to touch me every time we sing it. When I think of scars, when I think of bondage, when I think of the victory of our freedom these words haunt me.

Long my imprisoned spirit lay,
Fast-bound in sin and nature’s night;
Thine eye diffused a quickening ray;
I woke, the dungeon flamed with light;
My chains fell off, my heart was free,
I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

Amazing love! How can it be
that Thou, my God, would die for me?