Scars — Life’s Storytellers
This was one of the replies to the last blog post I wrote, Limp. Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? That’s what happens when you start working oo… time becomes such an elusive commodity.
Anyway, let’s review the issues our dear reader had, shall we? She says:
I still don’t understand why God left the limp when He said, “Behold, I make all things new, the old has passed away”. I just don’t get why some scars need to be left in our lives when the Lord actually also says we should strive forward, forgetting all that easily besets u, which is our past… I dunno whether you get me.
Note to my dear theologians, if you have a problem with the heavy paraphrasing and mixing of verse content here, please don’t worry… it’s my problem… not yours, OK? Just relax.
Now that that’s out of the way I bring you… (drumroll please)…
SCARS.
Let me start by telling you a story.
Once upon a time, when I was in the first grade at Dayspring Montessori School, along with my friend, George, I tried to break into enter my classroom through a window. To be honest, I was trying to get my homework which I had forgotten, so I wouldn’t have to face the fury of my mum. (Oh the things we did for school). The next thing I knew, I heard a loud crack, glass shattered, and I was looking at the flesh that used to be hidden beneath my skin… you know, the light pink, almost white colour, of muscle tissue. A few minutes later we were at the First Foundation Clinic, and Dr. Baffuor-Awuah was sewing my arm like Woodin.😬😭 That, my friends, was my first true encounter with pain. If you’ve never had stitches, thank God eh, and I pray you never need some… ‘cos you don’t know pain till you have known stitches.
But how do I remember all the details? The pain? Maybe. But even more evidently, the ugly scar that lives on my elbow. You have no idea how many times I’ve been asked, “What happened to your arm?” Then I have to recount the story of how little Kwadwo tried to pass through a window and got hurt really bad.
But what does this have to do with the question at hand? Well… God knows the value of remembering. Don’t worry, I’ll explain.
During the days of Israel’s journey from Egypt to Canaan, it became evident that these guys always forgot God’s goodness.I mean, they forgot they had walked through the Red Sea on dry land, in between walls of water. They forgot how God had taken them out of slavery in Egypt, and they complained. The one that surprises me (nea ɛyɛ me wanwa kraa) is how they could eat God’s manna in the morning, and murmur in the afternoon… like, people, you just raided the breakfast of angels!!! Give the whining a break, will you?
So God began to institute memorials. After every major battle or activity, He would make them set up a pile of stones, or he would institute a rite or ordinance. The reason was simple; so they could tell others:
“Let this be a sign among you, so that when your children ask later, saying, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ then you shall say to them… (Joshua 4:6,7)
I believe that is why God leaves scars… so we can remember, and so we can tell others. Every scar on your body tells a different story. Not only of how you were hurt but also of how you healed. When we forget, we also forget to give God His praise and glory for getting us through.
And so when His own Son went to the cross and died for us, God raised Him up, but he left the scars in His hands, in His feet, and in His side… because we cannot afford to forget. The stories of how we overcame give us hope that we shall overcome. After all, there is nothing new under the sun, and what hurt us yesterday, gives us the experience to rise stronger tomorrow.
So the next time you see a scar, remember, what doesn’t kill you… knows Who you belong to. (I stole that line from this spoken word piece 🙈)
I must end with this though:
A scar is not a wound! A wound needs attention, a scar does not. If you still think about that hurt every day, please, allow it to heal. How? Let go and let God. I’m not saying it’s easy, I’m saying it’s worth it. And the next time someone asks you about your scars, tell the story and let God get His praise!
Shalom.
✌😎KayO
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Originally published at KayO’s Blog.
