At a Starbucks this morning…The table has a few scars. Battle scars? Or simply accidental markings.
I have a scar on my right wrist where I met the road face to face one night. Mom wasn’t feeling good and I went to the store on my bike for her medicine -Coke and candy bar!
Emergency room, painful shot, cleansing pump to get rid of asphalt, stitches, bandage… Back home.
I think moms illness was cured!
The next few weeks were painful reminders of a disabled right hand. School was a struggle. No playing in a roughhouse way. Steering my bike with my left hand only was a challenge.
I blamed my poor grades in Algebra on that incident, but fact is – this kind of math made no sense!
Scars either remind us of failures, or show us a better way of looking at the consequences of life.
The physical scars on the body of Jesus show me a better way of thinking about my challenges.