I have scars. Not unexpected for a 50-something woman. I've had a Caesarean section to deliver my son, and before that, I had my daughter. And before that, I had abdominal surgery, cuts and burns.
Scars are inevitable. I don't know of any person who hasn't acquired a few by the time they are my age.
One scar, though, epitomizes my point here. The scar is on my right thigh. It serves as a warning now. Don't go swimming around floating docks with exposed nails.
Can you see that scar? It's old, over forty years, but still visible.
As a result of that accident, we kids weren't allowed to go swimming out there anymore. I had a number of friends mad at me for that. Oh, well.
But scars don't just provide warnings, they also provide proof of healing. My body healed, but the scar remained. Curious thing, though. The scar has no nerve endings. It's numb. There is no feeling there.
As I consider the scars Jesus earned on the cross this Easter, I remember that my scars healed over. And thankfully, they no longer hurt.
Our emotional and physical scars heal, but they remain. They once hurt, but now they don't.
Allow your scars to remind you of past mistakes, to keep you focused on not swimming out to that dock with the exposed nail. But also remember that your body and soul can heal and do a remarkable thing, that is, not grow nerve endings within the scar tissue. To protect you from future pain.
Scars aren't pretty but they are needed. The scars Jesus earned weren't pretty, but needed to offer eternal life. Your scars aren't pretty, either, but one day, they will warn you against a danger and when you touch them, they will not respond, but rather they will protect you.