THESE SCARS
They Still Speak
The Silent Language of Living Wounded
Wherever you are today, your limitations, your walls, your scars are before God’s eyes.
September 9th, 2022
LONELY PLACES
He was covered from his face to his bottom extremities in burns, third-degree burns, the kind that mold you differently from who you once might have been. He sat on the street corner, with his moth-eaten hat splayed open for the crowds to see how empty it remained. His scars tragically outlined a hideous tale, but there was no way anyone could really know his personal tragedy. It was an emphatic reminder to me that we are not privy to someone’s story, until they choose to tell it. Scars merely tell a tale which is often left to the imagination, and we humans are notably unkind and suspicious. As with my friend.
He long ago learned how to block out the murmurs and the questions. ‘What’s wrong with that man? What happened to him? What do you s’pose caused him to look like that?’ And the most painful: ‘No, Mommy, that man is scary looking! Don’t make me go close. I’m afraid, Mommy!’ It had been years since he had felt the gentle touch of someone’s warm hand, decades since an embrace. No one ever got close enough. And then my friend met Jesus.
Jesus transformed my friend’s life. He couldn’t heal him from the outside in, but He could heal him from the inside out. Jesus couldn’t cause him to no longer be disfigured, his face distorted, once chewed by tongues of fire, but Jesus could remake His heart, so his heart shone through his eyes, instead of his fear, his resentment, even his shame. And this all happened for him because Jesus identified with my friend. Jesus showed my friend His scars and said, “I understand. Here, reach your hand into my side so you know I get your pain. Touch these marks on my hands. See where I was pierced for mankind’s transgressions. See where I buried the sin and your sadness in the nailprints on My palms. See where I overcame it all so you wouldn’t have to.”
I remember the day it happened. The side door to the church opened, and he tentatively peeked inside; I imagine, daring whether he should step inside or not. I could hear some audible gasps. But the sweetest little old lady who was an-every-Sunday assurance at this congregation slowly waddled her way toward him, grasping him by the hand, leading him to where she sat. She patted the place next to her, and skeptically he glanced at her. No way to sit so close and not touch. She pulled my friend down next to her, gently caressing his knee. He might have felt like a million bucks that day, his dirt-smeared trousers and holey jacket, the cap he collected his coins in stained with years of sweat and grime held across his heart, and a river of tears coursing from his weathered eyes.
The preacher shared that morning in the service about the leper who lived in lonely places on the outskirts of town because he wasn’t allowed close to the city gates due to his disease. Then the leper heard of this Man who was performing many miracles. He came to Jesus and asked if He would be willing to heal him. Indignant by the question, Jesus answered, “I am willing,” and He reached out and touched him, healing him immediately. Jesus crossed barriers by touching a leprous man, and thus, had to stay in the same lonely places on the edge of the town (Mark:140-45). The preacher spoke of Jesus’ willingness to take our place to set us free from our wounded selves.
The man who became my friend openly wept, his tears getting caught in the scars left behind by ragged burns, his emotions glistening and raw. His life never was the same after that day as the elderly little lady made sure every congregant shook his hand that day, including mine. I learned likely more from him than I ever had from another individual as we watched a wild transformation take place right before our very eyes. For many years I too had walked right past him, never glancing his way, never giving him any notice. But on that day, in that little chapel, a wise woman’s kind gesture and Jesus’ own scars healed a man’s lifelong internal pain. Acceptance and compassion are incredible salves to wipe on someone’s wounds no matter from where they come.
Isaiah 53:3, ‘He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces, he was despised; and we held him in low esteem.’ (NIV)
Isaiah 49:16, ‘”Can’t you see? I have carved your name on the palms of My hands! Your walls are always my concern.”’
