My earliest scars I don’t remember getting, although after almost 60 years
they still show. It was a Labor Day, about 1958, and a picnic was in our back
yard. My dad was cooking on a little round hibachi like grill, and after we ate
I sat on it, thinking it was a stool. Do not attempt this stupid act at home or
anywhere else. And to this day the back of my calves are scarred. And it seems
1958 was a good year for scars, as I had my first knee surgery, not quite sure
what it was until 2009, and after a motorcycle accident had trouble with that
knee. When the PA called and told me I had no meniscus, confirmation was made.
Again a scar I still wear after all these years. And as life went on, the many
spills and falls from falling off of bicycles, the rock that flew out from
underneath the mower an stuck in my shin, and finally my open heart surgery have
left many distinguishing scars to identify my body by. But the ones on my
face....are a different story.
It is Easter break, 1969, and Eddie Lynch and I go into New York City.
Suddenly without warning, a man steps out from behind a news stand, breaks a
bottle against a pole, then hits me in the face with it. All in less time than
it took to read this sentence. We chased him down into the subway, where he
disappeared into a train, just as the door closed-right in front of New York’s
finest. And as the train pulled out, he got away. It was the that Eddie cried
out “you’re bleeding,” as my left cheek had been cut two places, and a hole was
in my hose, a piece of it taken out. And the blood was pouring out, hitting the
ground. So I took off my wind breaker, noticing my arm cut, where I had blocked
two other attempts, and stood on a corner at 8th Avenue and 34th St. waiting for
an ambulance. There must have been 100 people on the corner gawking, and
finally a women offered some tissues. And after a short ambulance ride to the
French Polytechnic Hospital, my face was stitched up, my nose repaired, and life
went on. Later I was learn how fortunate I was, as on the same corner, only an
hour earlier, another man had been attacked, and had facial nerves and muscles
cut-there but for the grace of God was I. Needless to say, I have nothing good
to say about New York City, nor muggers or the crowds who just watched me as I
bled. And I am told this is normal, and in a poll of one, mine-they fail.
They call NYC the Big Apple, my opinion is different, a big #$*&^%!
And I have the scars to prove it. Some scars I wear with pride, and some from
embarrassment, this one I wish I could have avoided all together. But God has
given me the scars to prove what happened, and remind me of how He rescued me,
and took me through the events. I find it amazing that Jesus will still have
His scars in heaven, but He will. As if to remind us of how He died and
suffered for us, but for now we have to trust, and use spiritual discernment
when others talk about God. Many gods trying to get your attention, cars,
motorcycles, money, jobs-you name it. And they all will leave a scar when they
are done, for putting anything before God will cause damage. Some we will see,
like my scars, but some are hidden, only God sees them, but we still carry the
pain of how we got them. These are the wounds that take the longest to heal,
the ones that only Jesus can heal, and some take time, years. And some never go
away, an inner scar to remind us to lean on Jesus. Some are scars in our
memories, and certain events, dates, or anniversaries trigger them. Some we
share with others, some still too private to share, only God knowing they are
there. And it is important to trust the only true God, the one who bears our
scars, and knows our pain. The only one who can feel with us, the only one who
truly knows our pain, and who knows the story behind our scars. Some from
childhood, some from the teen years, and some we reserved for our adult years,
the difference between men and little boys sometimes being the size of their
scars.
But it is the scars of Jesus that we need to remember, the seven places he
bled for us, He knows, because He has the scars to prove it. When we think no
one likes us, and cannot think straight, the scars from the thorns pushed into
His skull remind us of that. The scars in His hands show how He reaches out,
despite the personal pain to us-He knows. The scars on His back, where He took
the beatings, He knows what it is like to be stabbed in the back by friends.
The scars in His feet, He walks with us, never leaving, calling to us to lean on
Him, and follow in His steps as He is the great shepherd. And finally the scar
where the spear was stuck in His side, puncturing His pericardial sac, which the
heart sits in, a storehouse of all the tears He has wept over us, a storehouse
of prayers He remembers, reminding you that we are always near to His heart. A
situation I know about, as I had my sac drained of a pint of pus from infection,
but He kept me alive.
Not all scars will show, but don’t be ashamed to show them. Each one has a
story, and if you think about it, a time Jesus was there for you. Today as I
look at the 12” scar on my chest, I am reminded of how he has touched my heart,
and literally changed it, both physically and spiritually. A scar to prove the
miracle that He performed that day, holding my heart in His hands. And how He
holds my life in His hands daily.
Scars bothering you today, talk to Jesus about them. And watch as He can
heal them, building a relationship with you through your pain, because of the
pain He endured. Even the ones that don’t show, He can heal. And even the ones
so private, He will never disclose to others. Binding the wound, healing the
scars. And giving us a reason to face tomorrow. Leaving His grace as the
identifying criteria He was there and still is. So remember His scars, and turn
to Him when hurting, or before you get hurt. Some wounds are self inflicted,
and can be avoided by walking with Him, some need personal attention, some
cannot be helped. But whatever, wherever, and whenever He is called on, He is
there. And He has the scars to prove it. The identifying difference between
false Gods and the real God are His scars-he can prove who He is, will you let
Him?
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogpsot.com