Scarred

I bear scars.

Born two and a half months early, at a whopping 2 pounds and 13 ounces, I made my entrance into this world. The doctors told my family that I would not live through the night.

They were wrong. Jesus had other plans.

Complications grew for my Mom and she went into cardiac arrest, losing her life soon after giving me mine.

I bear scars. They run deep.

My Dad had been an alcoholic after serving in the military in both Vietnam and Korea, before I was born. My Mom proved to be a saving grace from the Lord and my Dad stopped drinking after meeting her.

Soon after my Mom died, my Dad picked up alcohol again. Losing her was too much. My sister and I were taken from his care before I was two.

I remember talking to him on the phone and later seeing him in his casket; the bottle won – my Dad had a heart attack when I was almost 5.

I bear scars. They run deep. Much deeper than I would care to admit.

My Grandma raised me. She began to lose her memory when I was in middle school. By the time I was in high school, she was admitted into a nursing home.

I lost what I knew – the house I was raised in, and the care giver that I knew my whole life.

Jesus proved faithful when He gave me an adopted family.

Even still, the hurt remained.

I bear scars. They run deep. Much deeper than I would care to admit. But, there are scars that run much deeper than mine.

These scars belong to the Man who changed the course of history with His life, death, and resurrection.

His Name is Jesus and He came in a body like yours and mine. A body that could be broken, hurt, and scarred.

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet: “Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel”. (which means God with us). (Matthew 1:22-23 ESV)

Immanuel. His body was able to be scarred, and scarred it would be. Innocent Immanuel was crucified, nailed to wood, and took my sin and brokenness with Him. With His last breath, He bought my life.

The difference is – His lungs would expand again three days later. He walked out of the grave.

The once bleeding wounds on His wrists and feet are now closed, but the marks of redemption are still visible.

They will eternally serve as a memory of what Jesus did to win us back, to redeem the broken and hurt.

I don’t know your story Reader, but I know you bear scars too. You are rehearsing them in your head right now as you are reading these words.

But because Jesus bears scars, yours can be redeemed. You need not despise them – the scars can only make you look more like Him.

What is holding you back from meeting Jesus at the cross?

Is it the fear that your scars are too deep? His ran deeper for you.
Is it the shame of what you’ve done to get the scars? His blood ran red to cleanse you.
Is it the rage that rises when you think of those who wounded you? Look to the Cross!

Friend, we may have scars. They may run deep. Rest assured, there is no scar too deep for Jesus.