Looking for a featured picture for this blog post wasn’t the most pleasing thing to do. If you know anything about scars, they are not necessarily the loveliest thing to watch.
While the little scar on Charlie Puth’s eyebrow can be considered as cute and can even start a trend, scars resulting from a healed third degree of a burn will probably not be considered as attractive.
Growing up, I’ve always had to hide my scars. I couldn’t stand having to be stared at by my classmates in the changing room each time we had gym classes.
Even later on, working at the hospital as my side job, I still had to wait until there was nobody in the room before being able to wear my smock. Sometimes even, I literally go to the restrooms to change my clothes.
Why? Because I was sick of being considered not “normal”. I didn’t want to read commiseration or even sometimes revulsion on faces.
Something happened that shifted my perspectives about my scars.
More than 2000 years ago, a man has been crucified upon a cross. Not only nails but also a spear have pierced his flesh, leaving deep wounds…
Three days later when He rose, He could have risen in a completely flawless, spotless body. I mean He is the Son of the Living God. HE IS GOD. Nothing is impossible to Him.
As He rose again, He still had the scars. One in each of His hands, one on each of His feet, and one in the side of His chest.
Visible proof of what He’s been through. A reminder of his story.
Jesus, spotless, righteous, holy Son of God, chose to give away his life as a tribute to our sin. Those scars on His Glorified body testify for an eternity long of our salvation.
When I was 7 years old, I got involved in a car accident that left its indelible marks on my body.
I was crossing the road when a car came from nowhere, hit me and drag me on a couple of meters before stopping.
Yeah. That’s right. I could have died. But no, I’m still alive.
And those scars on my stomach, arm, and leg are the proof that God is still in the business of covering and delivering His kids. I could have died, but He stretched out His arms to deliver me.
Some of us haven’t maybe got to deal with physical scars, but emotional ones. Scars resulting from all the ways we’ve been hurt by what we’ve been through. Even though no one can see them, they are part of who we are.
It’s time not to be ashamed of them anymore.
Behind every scar, there’s a survival story. Let’s not hide them. Let’s show them off. Because scars are reminders of healing. And behind every healing, there’s a healer.
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.