There are burn scars on my hand, still. Of all my self-inflicted wounds, it's these that will travel with me to old age.
I did not know Christ when I took a cigarette lighter to my skin twenty years ago. I never imagined that something good would come from the scars I wished away for so long.
But eleven years into their healing, I fell into the arms of a Father who saw my scars and hushed, "I equip you, though you do not know me" (Isaiah 45:5). And then he let me know him. And then he filled my old scars with new purpose.
You see, it took eleven years for me to look at the scars on my hand and see my Savior in them. Maybe it will take time for you to see him in your scars, too. But take heart: God puts scars to work for our good and his glory. This is how the good news of the gospel goes forth into the world. From humiliation, he brings hope. From pain, he brings purpose. From misery, he brings ministry.
From death, he brings life.
The day we look to our scars and see Jesus in them is the day we recognize something transformative: our scars are not our identity, but rather they are our opportunity to comfort others with the comfort God has graciously, mercifully given to us in Christ. Beauty from ashes. Strength from weakness. Glory from shame.
This is the way.
What would it look like for you to stand on the platform of your scars and herald the gospel to a hurting soul—a broken world? It'd look like following in the footsteps of Jesus, whose wounds made healing—made hope—possible for you and for me (Isaiah 53:5).
But eleven years into their healing, I fell into the arms of a Father who saw my scars and hushed, "I equip you, though you do not know me" (Isaiah 45:5). And then he let me know him. And then he filled my old scars with new purpose.
You see, it took eleven years for me to look at the scars on my hand and see my Savior in them. Maybe it will take time for you to see him in your scars, too. But take heart: God puts scars to work for our good and his glory. This is how the good news of the gospel goes forth into the world. From humiliation, he brings hope. From pain, he brings purpose. From misery, he brings ministry.
From death, he brings life.
The day we look to our scars and see Jesus in them is the day we recognize something transformative: our scars are not our identity, but rather they are our opportunity to comfort others with the comfort God has graciously, mercifully given to us in Christ. Beauty from ashes. Strength from weakness. Glory from shame.
This is the way.
What would it look like for you to stand on the platform of your scars and herald the gospel to a hurting soul—a broken world? It'd look like following in the footsteps of Jesus, whose wounds made healing—made hope—possible for you and for me (Isaiah 53:5).
