Every morning before I shower I have gotten in the habit of looking at my
scar in the mirror. I don't need my glasses for this one, as it is 12" long,
and being keloid looks like Dr. Frankenstein himself sewed me up. And at first
it was tough to look, being as it was a life or death surgery performed on me.
But as I watch in the mirror, I am filled with joy of the reminder that God has
chosen to bless me with. You see He performed a miracle in me this summer, and
when people see me it is hard for them to comprehend what I went through. I
hardly can comprehend, so don't try-just give God ALL the glory. But to prove,
and remind, and also serve as a testimony, He has given me this scar. And I
consider it a badge of honor, a personal remembrance of how He never left me,
forsook me, and how He healed me. One description of me was "you were the
sickest person we ever saw who wasn't dead." And from being life flighted, to
the surgery, to the amazing recovery, when Dr. Walinsky called me yesterday, and
reminded me I was a miracle, it was special. He performed the surgery, telling
PJ it was the hardest one he ever performed. I had four unique complications,
any one of them could have been deadly, together they place me as unique in
medical history, no one else recorded has ever had them. And I am here to
testify of God's greatness-and you wonder why I love my scar?
On my last visit to my San Diego cardiologist, he remembered me as "the
disaster." He told me I was lucky I wasn't dead. Yet luck played no part in
any of this, and Dr. W when told of his statement, was emphatic I am a miracle!
Living proof of the healing power of Jesus Christ! It is hard for even the hard
core atheist to doubt my story, so personal are our testimonies.
So this year I am alive for Christmas, and having a great Christmas
season. I came close to death, but the peace that surpasses all understanding
wants me here. Grace, He calls it. Not so much for me, because death meant
heaven, all the hospital staff knew I wasn't afraid to die. Had the DNR and all
to prove it. Which Dr. W tore up, telling me "after all the work I put into
you, I'm not ever giving up on you!" God also had the right surgeon in mind,
too. But the grace God has shown me is for my family-this Christmas my wife is
not a widow-I'm alive! My sons have their father with them-I'm alive! And the
testimony I had told Theresa I would only share once, I have been able to tell
over and over, and encouraged people to seek God!
I even got to visit with a man close to death, his heart was wasted and on
dialysis. After visiting and praying with him I got an e-mail that his signs
became normal-not because of my prayer, but because of Jesus Christ, who isn't
done with me yet, and wanted to bless me even more-and the families and people
associated with this man. So I wear my scar with great affection, a reminder
that God is a God of mercy and love. And now I better get it why Jesus will
wear His scars in heaven. Not so we can recognize Him, but always to remember
what He did, so we can be there in heaven with Him. His stripes will remind us
of what He took in our place. And suddenly the ugliness of what He endured
become beauty marks-what an expression of love. Greater love has no man than to
lay down his life for another-He's alive and so am I!
So Merry Christmas-it is for my family. May it be for yours. This will be
the last story I send this year, number 203. I will be taking some time to
spend with my family, my first ministry, and to relax and rest. And put miles
on the 2013 Street Triple I have to ride. Only God knows what lies ahead, and I
want to be ready. And if you note the date, sorry Mayans, our God is in
complete control. And He has a first name-Jesus. All yours scars were in vain,
His brought life, abundantly. And today I have my own personal scar to remind
me, and encourage others. Truly ALL things work out for those who love the
Lord, and are called to Him. My prayer is that you hear the call....and someday
see His scars and stripes...forever.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot