Scars. Those ugly things that flaw us. The defected skin that never healed right. The most unfortunate part is that most scars are permanent, showcased on our frames forever.
Then there are deeper scars. The ones that no one sees but God and us. Ones that score our soul. These emotional wounds are more difficult to deal with.
When I was fourteen, I read the crucifixion of Jesus for the first time out of my Bible. I remember it vividly. Emotions surged through me as I malled over the scourging, the crown of thorns, the nails. It moved me to tears but it also moved me to fury. How could people treat someone like this? Especially someone like Jesus, whose entire existence was spent on loving mankind. It was wrong. Barbaric. How could they?
Then I found Isaiah 49:16- See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands. The realization struck. His life wasn’t taken; it was given.
The very thing that separated man from God was the very thing the Son of God was about to become- sin. To hit even closer to home, it was my sin, my mistakes, my failures. An innocent soul bore my guilt. He engraved me—my weaknesses, my faults, and ultimately my punishment— on the palms of His hands.
It was the great exchange. Scars for scars. My scars said shame, but His scars said mercy. My scars brought regret, but His scars brought forgiveness and eternal life.
My prayer for this coming Easter Sunday is that we all get a greater revelation of what Jesus did for us, a clearer picture of redemption. And that it’s not just a holiday, a one day memorial, but a way of life. To live resurrected. 🙂