scars

in a world where perfection and flawlessness is sought after, i was struck the other day when looking in the mirror. i had hip replacement surgery six months ago, granted not a life changing or altering surgery, but for me it was a monumental step in trying to end eighteen years of chronic pain. in the mirror, my eyes focus on the scar. i love it. i am proud of it. i hope it doesn’t fade. it symbolizes strength and resilience to me but also reminds me just how damaged my hip was before and of all the pain i endured leading up to the scar.

i have emotional scars that are a result of exponentially more pain than the physical. mental scars from battling depression. these scars i don’t seem to be as proud of and the world tells me to hide these scars much deeper than the physical ones. i wonder if i equate these scars with the shame and guilt of wrong decisions or embarrassment of weakness.

lately the scars of our community seem to be highlighted more than ever before. there is pain and division and hate. it’s as if the wounds have been split open and salt continues to sprinkle in whether it be with intentional harm or reemerged trauma. love and care are nearly impossible to receive through the mangled mess and inflamed trauma of these scars.

regardless of the type of scar, i am relying on this truth: “by his (Jesus) wounds you have been healed” 1Peter2:24. rich, poor, leper, prostitute, black, white, criminal, saint…God sacrificed his son so that i could be forgiven of all of my sins and belong to Him. the only purpose my scars should serve are to remind me of the redemptive power of Jesus. of the absolutely perfect grace that save a wretch like me. and you. and the guy in prison. it’s cliche to say all we need is love. but truly, God’s love is actually enough.