Sacred Scars
The other day I happened to look down at my wrists, and that is when I saw them again. The scars I have from long ago. The scars I inflicted upon myself. Scars that many people do not even notice, but I do. I know they are there day after day. I am reminded of all the times I held a flame to a sewing needle then placed it to my skin until I could no longer feel the burning. All because I wanted to release the anger, hurt, fear, shame, and guilt, and that was the only way I thought it was possible. But you know what? It did not work.
Part of me feels shameful when I see them again, and the other part of me feels peaceful because I have come so far in my journey since I inflicted pain upon myself. There are some days where I have intrusive thoughts of inflicting more pain on myself, and I have to refocus my mind to get those thoughts out of there. It is definitely a long, hard process.
Not only are there physical scars but also mental ones. My mind has been scarred. Scarred so much that my mind is having to be reset completely. The abuse at such a young age literally wired my brain differently than if I had not gone through it. Therapy is helping a lot with that, but again it is a process. I have to remind myself of that when I feel frustrated because I am having those intrusive thoughts or when I just think negative thoughts in general. I also have to remind myself that my scars are so little in comparison to Christ’s scars.
He had a crown of thorns placed upon his head that was beaten into his flesh multiple times. He was also flogged. This means he was bound to a post with the skin of his back fully exposed and then whipped thirty-nine times (13 blows to the chest and 26 to the back) by a man of great strength. The leather whip was not just an ordinary whip. Oh no, it had pieces of bone and lead interwoven into it. His flesh was torn and ripped to pieces. And it does not stop there. He had three fairly large nails, more stake-like, hammered into his flesh to hold him upon an old ragged cross.
And to think through all of that, he was specifically thinking about me and you. He knew all the things we would do in this life even before we were thought of. He knew I would inflict these scars upon myself. He knew I would be abused and my mind scarred. He knew all of that and still chose to take those massive scars to show his love for me. He chooses to show me grace and mercy each day. He chose scars and a beating so that I could have eternal life through him. And you can have that today as well if you only choose to believe it.
It is so beyond my understanding of how through his wounds and scars, we are healed. He died to give us life. Today I am thankful for sacred scars, and I will choose to remember that whenever I see mine.
Part of me feels shameful when I see them again, and the other part of me feels peaceful because I have come so far in my journey since I inflicted pain upon myself. There are some days where I have intrusive thoughts of inflicting more pain on myself, and I have to refocus my mind to get those thoughts out of there. It is definitely a long, hard process.
Not only are there physical scars but also mental ones. My mind has been scarred. Scarred so much that my mind is having to be reset completely. The abuse at such a young age literally wired my brain differently than if I had not gone through it. Therapy is helping a lot with that, but again it is a process. I have to remind myself of that when I feel frustrated because I am having those intrusive thoughts or when I just think negative thoughts in general. I also have to remind myself that my scars are so little in comparison to Christ’s scars.
He had a crown of thorns placed upon his head that was beaten into his flesh multiple times. He was also flogged. This means he was bound to a post with the skin of his back fully exposed and then whipped thirty-nine times (13 blows to the chest and 26 to the back) by a man of great strength. The leather whip was not just an ordinary whip. Oh no, it had pieces of bone and lead interwoven into it. His flesh was torn and ripped to pieces. And it does not stop there. He had three fairly large nails, more stake-like, hammered into his flesh to hold him upon an old ragged cross.
And to think through all of that, he was specifically thinking about me and you. He knew all the things we would do in this life even before we were thought of. He knew I would inflict these scars upon myself. He knew I would be abused and my mind scarred. He knew all of that and still chose to take those massive scars to show his love for me. He chooses to show me grace and mercy each day. He chose scars and a beating so that I could have eternal life through him. And you can have that today as well if you only choose to believe it.
It is so beyond my understanding of how through his wounds and scars, we are healed. He died to give us life. Today I am thankful for sacred scars, and I will choose to remember that whenever I see mine.
“How wonderful, how glorious
My Savior's scars victorious
My chains are gone, my debt is paid
From death to life and grace to grace”
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