IT’S FRIDAY. BUT SUNDAY’S COMING! The Scars Tell The Story

 There is a scene in the movie Jaws, when they are out on the boat hunting for the killer shark. They’re chatting after supper and begin to compare scars and tell war stories

Each one is trying to out do the other with a scarier story and a bigger scar.  One guy says he cut his leg on a reef while scuba diving.  The second guy shows his scar when he was bitten by a shark.  Finally the third guy opens his shirt and points to his chest.  “What happened?  Did you have a bypass or something? They ask.  The guy says, “No.  Mary Jane. 7^th grade.  She broke my heart.” 

We all have our scars.  Physical scars.  Emotional scars.  Maybe even spiritual scars.  But they all tell a story. About our lives. Our experiences.  

On that Friday when Jesus died, we’ve got to remember the scars.  Yes, there was betrayal. Denial. Mocking.  A joke of a trial.  And of course, we think about the terrible death by crucifixion. 

But think about the scars.  The scars that came by a brutal beating.  Jesus’ back was beaten.  Bloodied.  Scourged.  When the flesh hung like ribbons.  

The crown of thorns was pushed down into his head.  Undoubtedly blood came forth.  And his scalp was scarred. 

And think of the side where the soldier’s spear pieced him. He was already dead but his side was punctured for good measure.  Blood and water came forth.  Some medical experts claim he died of a broken heart.  I don’t know.  But I know his side was scarred. 

And what about his hands?  His hands were nailed to the cross.  When I think of that Friday when Jesus died, I think about the nail scarred hands. 

Yet, isn’t it interesting that when Jesus arose on Sunday, He came forth in a glorified state.  The scars remained.  They were still there.  Visible. Conspicuous.  Obvious.  

When he appeared to the disciples on Sunday, John records that he showed them his hands and his side.  And the scripture says they were glad when they saw the Lord.  But Thomas was not at that meeting. 

He didn’t believe the disciples report.  He said, “Unless I see in His hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe” (Jn 20:25). 

The next Sunday, Thomas had his opportunity.  Jesus appeared. Again!  And Jesus said, “be not unbelieving, but believing” as he showed his nail scarred hands to Thomas.  And his reaction?  “My Lord and My God!” 

Jesus then said something really important, not just to Thomas.  But to you and I.   “Thomas, because you have seen Me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”  

What a difference it makes when we “see the scars”!  How it changes our lives!  Our focus!  Our faith!  Yes, I “see” him on the cross. In agony. Suffering.  Shedding his blood. 

But on Sunday, I see the scars.  I see that He lives.  I see that even in his gloried state, God allowed him to retain the scars to fortify my faith. To provide evidence for the resurrection.  When I’m tempted to stray. Or inclined to doubt. Or enticed by the flesh.  I need to remember the scars. 

“He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon him, and by his stripes we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5) 

The scars tell the story.  And they make a difference in my life.

–Ken Weliever, The Preacherman