scars

​Every three months they take pictures of my scarred liver. The scar is a good thing, a friend, a sign of grace. The scar is where the cancer used to be. The scar is a sign of life where death used to reside. 

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My back bears a scar that took away my pain and allowed me to walk upright again. My heart has scars burned into its interior walls to restore the life-giving rhythm I always took for granted. 

My heart also has unseen scars left by grief, betrayal, shame, and host of other hurts. Most are healed, though some take a long time. Each testifies to the healing and restoration granted by grace.

Like the hands and feet of our Lord, the suffering passes, the healing (resurrection) comes, but the scars remain. God transforms the scars from reminders of suffering to marks of our identity and God’s grace. We know Christ by his hands and feet, scarred but busy with the works of love. 

I am reminded of a poem by Mary Oliver that notes the inevitability of aging (and scars) and the nobility of gratitude and love manifest as we endure.

The Gift by Mary Oliver

Be still, my soul, and steadfast.
Earth and heaven both are still watching
though time is draining from the clock
and your walk, that was confident and quick,
has become slow.

So, be slow if you must, but let
the heart still play its true part.
Love still as once you loved, deeply
and without patience. Let God and the world
know you are grateful.
That the gift has been given.

Pax Christi
Tim Olson, Lead Pastor





Image by Mel Gama from Pixabay