Off-Roading Garling Style Part 6: Scars and Final Thoughts

“Can you still see it?” Vern asked me as I absentmindedly checked for stray hairs I may have missed during his haircut.

“Hmmm?” I hadn’t really been listening, I was so caught up in just cutting his hair. I seem to cherish these simple moments more now since the wreck.

“The scar on the back of my head. Can you still see it?”

I ran my finger along the 4 inch scar at the back of his head, remembering days not so long ago when it was nearly twice that length and raised up off his scalp in a ridge that would oftentimes spontaneously open up and ooze some sort of left over Oklahoma dirt crud that had been ground into his skull during those barrel rolls with our camper last year.

“Yep. It’s still there, but not so obvious anymore.”

I was pleased that it was well-healed now and less likely to do the crud oozing thing anymore. But Vern was disappointed, which made me laugh for a minute. What is it with men and their devotion to scars? Or maybe it’s just my man who loves his scars?

“I hope I get to keep these scars in heaven.” He said with a sigh.

And in that moment, I finally understood at least this one thing about the critter God had given to me as a husband. Vern’s scars are proof to him that he is stronger than what tries to kill him. And that knowledge gives him the courage he needs to rise up and be the warrior God intended for him to be.

Scars don’t do that for me. I carry most of my scars deep inside where nobody can see them. Scars of grief. Hurt. Regret. Loss.

To be completely transparent with you, I have to say that there are many scars I’ve got lurking about inside. And I think, sweet ones, if you are honest with yourselves, you would admit you have many scars too. Perhaps someone precious to you has died. Or a friendship that should never have ended went up with a “poof”. Maybe you were betrayed by a fellow Christian and it left you confused and hurt. Or you have set up housekeeping in a pit of depression and lost all hope that you will ever get out of there. Pieces of your heart scattered to the wind.

And then you convince yourselves (or at least I do) that those scars have all healed nicely. And then something happens to remind you of that scar, and it starts slowly oozing crud again.

What do you do?

Well, I’ll tell you what I do. First, I cry a little. Well, maybe a lot. Because I’m a girl and that’s what we do first off.

But the next step—now don’t miss this one—the very next step is that I go to The One who knows all about scars. I go to Jesus. I dump the whole load on Him. I just keep throwing those oozing scars at His feet and He pours His grace over them every single day for as long as I need Him to do it. Because He specializes in healing Wounds of the Heart.

And then one day you realize that those scars don’t ooze much anymore.

And then one day you realize that Jesus turned the scar into a shield against the things of this world that strain to beat you down and steal your joy.

And then one day you discover that you encourage others by telling them about that scar.

And you find yourself stumbling to your feet, determination flaring from your eyes, and a sly grin on your face that tells the world you have found your purpose, and it’s not to stand in a corner hiding from battles.

Your purpose is to rise up and be the warrior that God intended for you to be.

And it was those oozing scars laid at Jesus’ feet that got you to understand who you are. A child of The King. Loved by Him beyond all comprehension. A Warrior for Christ.

So rise up now! Take your place! The scars—both the healed ones and the oozing ones--are part of who you are!

Scars are most certainly a distinct feature of The One who died for us. By His wounds we are healed (Isaiah 53:5b). So find your way to the great physician. Ask Him to heal you and find your place among those who were lost but are now found. It is time.