The Beauty of Scars

Every boy has his scars. It’s a rite of passage to the masculine world of manhood. We like to display our scars like it is a prize trophy from our recent hunt in the wilds of the Serengeti. With each of our scars we will tell you a story about it. I have mine and if you ask I will show you. It’s on the shin of my right leg I got it when I was a boy, oh yes and it has a story. I know that girls have scars too, but they are not like us guys, they want to cover them up with make up and such they don’t think it adds to their appearance like us guys. I have known men that have had open-heart surgery and have displayed their massive zipper scar with pride. Showing that their chest was cracked, heart operated on and they survived to tell about it, they have a story to tell.

We all have those scars in our lives. You know what I am talking about and if you don’t you have probably sipped too much out of your cup of self-denial this morning. As we grow up, us guys, perhaps women too, like to cover up those emotional wounds in order to show the world how beautiful our life is, wound free, but the fact of the matter is the scars are still there. We know because we see ourselves without the makeup.

The interesting thing about scars is that they were not there initially. It started out as wound free flesh and skin, but then something happened. Some type of event caused the wound, perhaps an accident or a surgery or even it was self-inflicted, yes I said self-inflicted. I remember seeing this patient, in a psychiatric hospital that I once work in, that cause self inflicted scars on her arms; “cutters” is what we called them. They would superficially cut on their arms or other parts of their bodies to ease the pain in their lives. This one patient was a very attractive young women, but depressed and confused had a lot of pain in her life. As a result she would cut on her fore arms leaving massive scar tissue on them. Even if her depression would be cured or controlled, she would always have the massive scars on her arms. The wound happens exposing the flesh, and it is not always pretty, but it happens. I don’t know about you but my wounds have not been pretty, I think I would call them repulsive.

Then there is healing. That is what the scar is, the sign of a healed wound. If the scar were not there the wound would still be open. Exposed to infection, exposed to further injury, exposed for us to see the ugliness of the wound. Thankfully there is a scar to remind us of the healing.

“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed.”(NIV) 1 Peter 2:24.
Listen closely to your heart as you read it again slowly….”by his wounds you have been healed.” He suffered and was wounded so that you and I may be healed. A wound has to be tended too in order for it to heal, it can’t sit with out cleansing or it will not heal properly. His pain, His suffering, His wounds is our cleansing. I no longer have to sit and look at the ugliness of an open wound; He provided the healing over 2000 years ago. His scars heals my wounds. My scars remind me of that healing He provided. I have a story to tell of His healing.

Several weeks ago, my oldest son was carrying some glass jars in a sack when he fell and shattered one of the jars of hot sauce. As a result he cut his hand by a piece of glass. We cleaned his wound, got the bleeding to subside, applied some medicine on it and then place the butterfly bandages strategically in order that the cut would heal properly. Once we had the situation under control he asked me that question. “Dad, do you think I will have a scar?” I replied back to him, knowing what every young boy wants to hear and said, “Yes, I’m sure you probably will have some type of scar.” He was excited, “Cool, that’s what I want!”. He now has a story to tell.