I have a pretty scar on my right knee. 9 stitches. I remember thanking God for Novocaine shots that night.

While chasing a boy who deserved a whooping, my foot got in the path of swiftly moving fellow chaser and SMASH! to the pavement we went. 

I am proud of that scar. And of the story that lent that scar to me. 

But there is a far greater story that moves my heart to great joy. 

It is the story of a man who lived long ago and loved me more than I can imagine. He loved me so much that He chose to suffer wounds that were deep and will leave eternal scars. 

As I prep for an Easter service at my church, the hunt for meaningful material led me to this quote

"Our scars tell part of the story of who we are, what has mattered to us, what has happened to us, the risks we’ve taken, the gifts we’ve given.  And as we are reminded in the story before us in John’s Gospel, this was surely also so with Jesus, too. Which is why Thomas insisted he needed to see, no more than that, feel the scars in his hands and put his own hand in Jesus’ side to be sure that it was him.  One would think he would have recognized him with from the features of his face or the sound of his voice, but no, for Thomas, Jesus had become something more since that long walk to the cross a week before.  Jesus’ very identity was now defined by the sacrifice he had made in our behalf.  A sacrifice made most visible in those wounds that by then could have only begun to heal." -Janet H. Hunt, Scars and Stories, Doubt and Faith

I hope that the sacrifice that Jesus offered will always ring true to my heart. And I am eager for the one-day-coming-soon when I can hold those precious scared hands and say "Thank You". 

May the scars of your life make you aware of what you love and how you love.