Scars

Scar: I have a love/hate relationship with that word. Scars mean wounds. Wounds mean pain. Pain means somewhere, something was vulnerable.

I don't do vulnerability. I don't do pain.

Still, I have scars. So many scars. There are physical scars. Scars from the typical childhood accidents. Scars from the possibly not so typical but very frequently, clumsy adult. The not normal, evidence of deep soul hurts, self-inflicted scars.

And then the soul scars. Spiritual scars from well-meaning mentors and spiritual figures. Emotional scars from traumatic teenage events. Relationship scars from battling cross-culturally, sometimes winning, mostly losing.

I am well and truly marked. Crisscrossed lines run over skin and soul. Some wounds heal, are never thought of again. Other scars...other scars...they ache, are felt daily, down to the bone, like arthritis or tiredness that causes the whole body to hurt.

I want to hide in my shame. Scars are ugly, show evidence of weakness, failure. Scars mark us, cause us to stand out. I don't love my scars.

Years of cutting have made the flesh weak, frail, paper-thin.

Years of people hurts have made the soul fragile, stiff, easily spooked, like a head-shy horse.

I read a quote once "The problem with us is that we compare our behind the scenes to everyone else's highlight reel."

I compare my unspoken shame to everyone else's victory. Don't we all?

But we are all human, we are all soul-scarred. We all have our shame that haunts us; always there is unspoken grief, unspoken guilt.

We carry it around, burdened, always hiding.

God longs for us to be free. Our secrets exposed, our grief healed.

Someone told me once that God is not only a God who heals, He is also a God who restores. A man's arm can be amputated, and the site of amputation can be healed. But God has the power to restore that arm, to make it whole again.

He does that with our souls. The stiff, rigid, easily-spooked soul scars, those can simply be healed, no longer aching, or they can be restored, so that places once wounded have no evidence of hurt, they are fully alive.

I'm still waiting. God is slowly restoring, even as the physical scars have faded with time, aching gone, no reminders of the once searing pain, so also the soul is healing, brought back to full life where words and memories are joy not pain. Sin erased, no longer shackled by shame.

This is Good Friday morning. The day we commemorate Christ's death, His suffering, the day He took our scars and replaced them with a promise of hope, life, joy.

This Easter I find myself challenged to embrace His finished work on the cross, to abandon the shame, to surrender to His healing power.

God, let me walk forward in victory!