1 Corinthians 1:30
The look of concern that formed across the delicate face of my six year old as she looked at me sent my heart racing. Clearly something she saw she found disturbing. What had me perplexed was why it was she was looking at me. Suddenly her tiny thin lips began to form the words, asking, “mommy who stabbed you there?” WHAT? I was dumbfounded. What did her eyes see that I did not? At once it hit me, my C-section scar.
Funny the scars we carry each representing different stories in life. Some of my scars remind me of happy and beautiful times while others stir emotions of extreme pain. But what of those scars that live deep within us? The ones that are not visible to anyone else and pierce deep within our hearts. Those are the scars that we carry from broken and extremely painful pasts. Each scar either comes from the self inflicted wounds that we create by our own choices or mistakes while others are delivered by the hand of someone else. No matter how these scars are received they each still serve as a painful reminder of tremendous hurt. Each one we carry is a story, a story that we should embrace and not something we hide. They are our opportunity to share the transformation of healing that took place within us.
My scars are my reminder of healing. They are old wounds that have been mended and healed by the power of Christ in my life, serving as a message of hope. Over the years I have learned to be thankful for the scars I have received, reminding me of the work God has done in my life, the struggles He has carried me through and the way in which He has healed the deep wounds of my life. My scars have become my treasures, my testimony to share with others in great hopes that their scars may find healing too!
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