Scarred For Life

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.
Isaiah 53:5

Today, November 15, is my Thanksgiving Day or, like I like to call it, my Deathday. It was 15 years ago, to the day, that I was rushing to school, late as usual. I had just come out of the cab and was waiting for change when I heard the loud blare of a truck horn. Next thing I knew, I was airborne, looking down at Mother Earth and wondering what had happened to me. It was not till I hit the ground (seconds of course, but it felt like eons) that I realized I had just been rammed, by a truck no less.
Several months of hospitals, medication and physiotherapy did their thing and I was soon back to new - except for the scars. My body did not respond well to the bruises, lacerations and infection, and I was left with hypertrophic scars on my face, neck and legs.
Today, years later, these same scars are a potent reminder of God’s mercy in my life. As I recount my deliverance, it occurs to me that these scars, disfiguring as they are, are a medal of honor. I would not have scars except I have been healed. A scar means the healing is complete and all that remains is a memory.
As I pondered this I remembered Christ’s own scars, displayed proudly one Sunday so many years ago. It was a warm spring evening but there was a chill in the air. The disciples had heard that Jesus’ body had gone missing and they were filled with trepidation, expecting a Jewish mob to storm their hideout any moment, demanding answers. As they brooded and pondered in the dim lights Jesus suddenly stood among them. “Peace be with you!”, his first words. Words cannot describe the astonishment they felt as they stared at him, eyes full of wonder. “Could it really be...?”, they thought. But then he showed it to them. His scars. A few days earlier, the soldier’s gavel had muffled the anguished cries of their master, driving cruel nails into his hands. Those same wounds, which had meant sin and shame back then now meant redemption and healing. And Life.
Everyone of us has experienced hurt, pain and disappointment. An examination failed, a relationship broken, a loved one gone. But after the grieving comes the healing and at the end of it all we can look back and see that the scars serve to remind us how far we’ve come the grace of God at work in our lives.
Join me and thank God that I’m alive. I’ve got the scars to prove it!
With love, Doosuur