THE STORY BEHIND THE SCARS

Some people walk with their scars open, while others hide them to avoid humiliation, where to others they are jagged pains of the past. To some, it is strength, when to others they feel defined ugly. I see scars as marks of reverting identity, when Christ rose he could have chosen to be perfect: I mean ain’t his dad a God of perfection? but He chose to keep his scars so that people would believe him as a proof of what he had conquered, He wore this scars as a badge of honor. Scars are a sign of identity, they define strength.

Let alone the suffering that we get, for His son; there are marks of death that God chose to never erase in Jesus’ body because He understands the feeling of carrying the scars of wounds once suffered, the wounds which we never want to be reminded, that we wish to bury for as long as we can, the ones we wish no one knew about, and at times we wish we could just go to new places where no one has an idea of how it has been for us, and yes, it’s okay not to be okay.

For so long I felt like I was an alien in my own body, I felt ugly with every stare I got, in the glances I saw judgement, their eyes were painted disgust and patterns that I could not even try to figure out. I was very much afraid of meeting myself from another person’s point of view. I wanted to keep all these to myself then something stirred up in me and slowly I stopped paying attention to these lies I had brought myself to believe. I learnt that it was by these marks I was recognized, that these scars showed just how much I have to had to overcome, that I have been saved from intense pain that I wish to testify of. By the definition a scar is a mark of a healed wound hence physical perfection is not my goal and a glorious life is worth more valuable.

I noticed scars more when I looked around because there was something about these people who showed their scars, so unafraid to be themselves , unmasked, courageous about the scars that shaped them, their vulnerability was magnetic that drew me closer to them. I yearned to hear about their self-acceptance, to hear their stories and see the courage they possess.

To learn people I have then remembered to ask them about their scars and hear of what defines them…to come into terms with what has shaped them, because I believe every scar has a story. When we show out our scars to the world we inspire others to do that. We should therefore wear these scars as badges, and who knows,we may find beauty in these scars we carry.

Even when we have done our best to hide our scars, sometimes they are rubbed to our face by people that are too broken to care, who knows maybe they are also going through such? We break down mercilessly because it actually feels like some flesh has been peeled off our old wounds leaving us bloody and raw again.

Looking back into my past to settle down with the events I wrote down my thoughts, and emotions came filling my mind, long-buried memories came rushing, taking position in my brain once again. This was in an effort to visit my past and at least sort my emotions. With every writing, the lies I made myself believe held less power over me.

I found a life in prayer, it was really beautiful realizing that I had a listening ear. I found out that I wasn’t defined by what people say or see but by who I am in him who called me. God told me that in all these he gave me grace to endure and I felt how he was using my story for his glory.

As much as it has been said, don’t question God, I’d say don’t question his ability; say God if you really are then show me. I remember how much I’d always cry to God because I wanted my issue solved, I wanted answers. With years he walked with me, showed me how to focus on the purpose rather than who is at fault.

He is a God who knew us before the foundations of the world and he therefore calls us uniquely, based solely on his grace