Now What?

What do you blog about the day after your surgiversary? I thought about a number of things: things accomplished? Done. Goals for the next year: Done. Changes in my body, or mind: Done and done. So, I’m randomly picking a topic, and just going with it.

If anyone ever has to identify my lifeless body, I have enough scars to make it easy. I have had three abdominal surgeries where I was cut top to bottom. I have had two pacemaker surgeries, but only have one scar there because they cut in the same place. I have the small scars on my belly from my gastric surgery. I have a scar under my chin that I got when I split it open after jumping off a chest-style freezer (but everyone else was doing it!) I have a scar over my left eye from a bicycle accident. There are more – from both surgeries and accidents.

We live in a world that seems horrified by scars. We turn away from that kind of disfigurement. There are numerous gels and creams to minimize scars. We cover them up. We are embarrassed by them. I have a different opinion of scars, though. Think about the firefighter who is burned because he ran into a burning building to rescue a child. His scars become a badge of honor – showing his courage and dedication. And to the mother of the child that was rescued, those scars are quite beautiful and deserving of nothing but gratitude.

Jesus also had scars: from the terrible beating before His crucifixion; from the nails in His hands and His feet; from the thorns pushed so cruelly into His head; and from the spear that pierced His side.

“Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord!’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.’ A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Pease be with you!’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.’” (John 20:24-27, NIV)

There is one thing that all of these scars have in common: each represents something that was wounded, and is now healed. I am not for a minute suggesting that my scars in any way are equal to those of Jesus – or even to the firefighter’s scars. But they do represent some sort of healing in my body. And as such, perhaps we should look at them as something beautiful instead of something ugly.

Physical scars are one thing – but many of have emotional scars as well: things that are not visible, but have hurt us, regardless. And sometimes, those hurts are harder to heal than physical injuries. Again, I would say, when those things become scars, it means that healing has occurred. And in the same way that someone can use physical scars to identify a body, those emotional scars become part of who we are. I have decided that I am not going to be ashamed of my scars – either physical or emotional – and I will praise God because He has healed me!