I woke up this morning thinking about scars. At 5:00 am. Weird, right? Because I have a hole in my head. Literally and figuratively. Well, not a hole, exactly. More like a large divet. A head valley? It's from all the cutting and stitching and stretching and nastiness of my skin cancer removal. And now that scar has had time to settle in and get cozy.
There are times when it aches. And it's red and looks rather ugly. I'm guessing this is all rather normal for a scar. To be honest, I hope I don't ever have a repeat.
But, for some reason, in the dark hours of this morning, my small, minuscule scar brought me thoughts of larger, more important scars. Those that are in His hands, His wrists and His feet. And I wonder if Christ's scars feel like red, ugly, aching holes. Just like the one in my head.
This time of year seems to focus on the Savior's birth. We love the nativity and the star and the wise men bearing gifts. But what of The Man? The one with scars to prove He saved us all?
Maybe our actions reflect His scars. Do we honor them? Or do we set them aside for another day? Scars are permanent. His most of all. What if we could live our lives to make them worth it? That feels like a monumental promise.
"Men are that they might have joy". Christ's words, not mine. Joy. That's all He wants for us. He doesn't say that 'Men are to make lists'. He doesn't mention that 'Men are to rush and stress and hurry'. Just joy. Three little letters. One simple word that can change our souls.
There still is work to be done. Daily life keeps on ticking. Stress is inevitable. But, underneath it all, His scars remain. For me. For you. For everyone I see scattering through the mall. He rescued all of us.
I think we would do well to remember.
The scars that changed the world.
And maybe, just maybe, the real and true meaning of this season can bring peaceful calm and glorious bright.
Let's think about scars together.