Scars Are Not A Sign of Weakness

I’ve noticed that in the last few years, I’ve accumulated a lot of scars. Everything from ant bites to major surgery seems to leave a scar on me. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even care if I have scar spots all over my hands, arms, and legs… it’s pretty much unavoidable.

But why do we spend so much time trying to hide our scars? Are we trying not to be judged? Will people think I’m not as attractive if I have staple marks on my head, or discolored lumps on my thigh? What about wrinkles and age spots?

I hate to say it, but I’m not young anymore. Not physically, anyway. I’m pushing 40, which is a long way from 18. Further away from 18 than when I was born. When I look in the mirror, I’m presented with a mix-n-match splatter of skin tones, based upon how long ago the scar was formed. Some of them you almost can’t see. You wouldn’t know they were there if I didn’t show you, but each and every one has a memory tied to it. They remind me of times when I was more reckless… more spontaneous… and less inclined to care.

I have a lot of spiritual and mental scars, as well. They don’t show up often, as I’ve learned to hide them well. We all do. However, you can’t hide scars from everybody, and you can’t hide anything from God. If you’ve been hurt, He knows.

Some people will say “It’s God’s fault I have scars!”

Well, yes. It’s also a doctor’s fault I have an 18″ scar running down my left leg. If it weren’t for that scar, I would probably have never walked without crutches or a cane. It’s a scar I’m willing to deal with, because it’s a sign of healing. The damage underneath would have been much worse without the scar.

Some of my scars are from my own stupidity. Like the time I cut my fingertip with a razor knife. Or the other time I cut a different fingertip with a pair of scissors. Or the time I… well, you get the idea. Sometimes it’s just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I have a lot of scars like that. Bug bites, scratches, cuts, you name it. After a while, I tend to forget they’re there. They blend into my self-image so that even I don’t see them. And I look good in the mirror.

But every now and then my scars will itch, and remind me of my past. I have one particular scar that is over two years old, and it’s still healing. Still discolored. Still itches and aches when the weather changes. It’s still ugly, but it’s in a spot where nobody can see it unless I show them. It is fading- slowly- but at this rate it will be decades before it turns the same color as my skin, and it will probably never smooth down to where it’s not noticeable.

I’m okay with scars now. It’s taken some time, but over the years, God has healed my wounds inside and out. Every time it happens, I think “Man, what an ugly scar!” but it’s proof that God is there, pulling me through, healing me. Now I tend to get scars from almost everything. And you know what? It doesn’t bother me.

I’m not done healing. It may take some time. In your life, it may take some time, too. You might have some pretty big wounds, but God can heal them all. They do leave scars, but underneath, there is real healing going on.