Scars.

Not too long ago, I read an article about the significance of one's physical scars. We all have them. Maybe they are reminiscent of a bad accident or a burn or an old injury. Maybe they are fresher, more recent. Maybe they remind us of something painful in our life experience, or maybe something joyful. So today's thought......what do the scars on your body say about you?

As far as physical scars go, I have a few. I have a scar above my right knee from a silly fall that I had back in my college days. I had just gotten my first "real" job as a professor and was moving from the Lansing area to Grand Rapids; I was cleaning my apartment before we moved out, and I decided to be efficient and combine cleaning the shower with taking a shower. Well.....the combination of the water and the shower cleaner and bare feet made for a very slippery surface. To make a long story short, I ended up falling and slashing my leg on the shower door track. The injury was rather gaping, and I probably should have gotten stitches, but because we were in the middle of moving, I didn't go to the doctor. Hence, a scar. To me, this scar always symbolizes my transition from college student to professional...the start of my professional career. A whole new exciting world of possibilities.

My second scar is from a wart on my right hand that I had removed. I remember being horrified by this wart when I was in high school. I tried every kind of wart removal medication that there was...the wart was on my writing hand, and I felt like everyone was staring at it. In actuality, it was quite small and not really that noticable, but it mattered to me in those years where image is so important. That scar reminds me of my school years, and also reminds me that our appearance is only a small part of who we are. Our image needs to be rooted in something and someone so much more than the physical appearance.

As I was growing up and playing almost every sport imagineable (no soccer for this girl!), I was always getting scars. I was a very aggressive player, so I always had some sort of huge floor burn or scab or oozing wound. I think that I left several layers of my skin on softball fields around the state of Michigan. My mom was always patching my softball pants and warning me that someday, I would have legs that looked like ground meat. Nice. And often, even before a wound had a chance of healing, I had re-ripped it open with some slide into home or crash into the bleachers saving the ball or dive to save a volleyball. That's just the kind of player I was, and I have the scars to prove it. My knees are so scarred that to this day, I usually don't wear skirts above the knee. These scars remind me of the role that athletics have played in my life, and the value of doing everything and going after your goals with your whole heart and being.

And my most valued scar is one that changed forever who I am and how I define myself. It is located on my lower abdomen, and it is the scar left when doctors lifted my children from my body into this world. I never expected to have Cesarean births with my children. But it is how it ended up, and I wouldn't trade that scar for anything. After more than 24 hours of labor, it is where I first become a mother when my daughter was born. And two years later, it is where I became a mother again when my son came into the world. Everytime I see that scar, I remember what a significant calling it is to be a mother, and how I would give anything to see my children live lives of significance for Christ. It is my scar of identity. It is a symbol of the sacrifices that I have made for my children, and that I would never, ever regret.

These reflections on scars and what they say about a person causes me to think about another person's scars. This person has more physical scars than I, and they are more intense. This person has a scar where He was pierced in his side by a sword. He has scars on his forehead, where a thorny mass was pressed mercilessly into His head. And He has scars in His hands and his feets, where they were nailed to a cross and hung, flesh ripping and tearing. Who is this man with these scars? His name is Jesus Christ, and He is my Savior. These scars speak so clearly about His identity, His mission, His love. These scars speak of a love so deep that He was willing to endure torture and death for me and for you. These scars speak of how He was willing to endure physical pain and psychological humiliation that we might have eternal life with Him. And these scars speak of a King who was willing to humble himself that we might have Hope. Some day, I will see Him face-to-face and see His scars and hear Him speak of His sacrifice. Until that day, in my own physical scars I see just a glimpse of His.

So, what do your scars say about you? And what is your response to He whose scars were given so that you might live forever?