“He was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.” Isaiah 53:5
“Now Thomas, one of the twelve, called the Twin, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.’
“Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’” John 20:24-28
What was a grey maroon scrape is now an open wound, blood red on the horizon. Like so many days, widespread and pleasant beauty marked by suffering. The color is what catches attention, catches breath. And catches the heart up into the Savior.
Beautiful Savior He came, ministering welcome to the outcast, friendship to the hated, restoration to the broken. He spent and spilled out love as He walked miles, taught truth, fed thousands, calmed storms. Marvelous were His words and works, only to be punctuated by the ugliness of death. Nails driven through the very hands that broke bread and soothed fever and healed the blind and leprous. Nails through the feet that walked to Lazarus’s grave, among the crowds, onto the boat, across the water, toward the cross. Despised, stricken, His majesty and beauty marred, He died for us. (Isaiah 53:2-4)
When days and lives begin in fresh opportunity and get cut short or turn dark, when dreams and plans are scarred, we can know these are not meant to mar contentment and hope, but to remind of us of ultimate joy. Wounds have meaning, and redemptive power. Scars are symbols of resurrection and healing that Jesus won for us. Would we know, touch, and accept them, and believe like Thomas that our God is Lord over even these?
What do scars bring to mind this day? How grateful are we for Christ’s glory laid by, glory manifested in His love and life raised? What will we sacrifice in response?
“When I survey the wondrous cross
on which the Prince of glory died,
my richest gain I count but loss,
and pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast
save in the death of Christ, my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them through his blood.
See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were a present far too small.
Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.” ~Isaac Watts (1709)
Lord, make me grateful for scars You bore and grant, that I might love and live for Your sake.
As the rain and snow 