Some of you may remember that, a couple months ago, this happened:

Today, it looks like this:

And, because, even though I am middle-aged, my vanity remains, it often looks like this:

It really is barely noticeable. Just a tiny little scar. But it didn’t start out like that. First it was a gaping wound (you’re welcome for not putting THAT picture up!). It was deep and bloody and nasty looking. Even my doctor did a little “oh, that’s ugly!” gasp when he saw it. And I’ll be honest – I was nervous I’d end up looking like a cross between Harry Potter and Frankenstein when it was all over. And, for a while, the scar looked pretty nasty. I used the heavy-duty scar reducer ointment as well as my friend’s homeade oil ointment, but the scar stayed angry and red-looking, mocking me everytime I looked in the mirror. But now, two months later, it’s really no big deal at all.

Because I look at everything as potential blog post topics now, I thought of how our physical scars are a lot like our emotional scars. When we are wounded, that wound is ugly, messy, and painful. Maybe it’s a major wound, like losing a loved one. Maybe it’s more minor – cruel words from someone you thought was a friend. But wounds are wounds, and they hurt. And when they are fresh, we sometimes think they’re going to hurt forever. Healing seems impossible. The pain is too deep.

But, with the right care, we can heal. With physical wounds, like mine, I needed to see an expert, someone who could stitch me back together.  With spiritual wounds, we sometimes need the help of experts, as well. Maybe that someone is a pastor or youth leader, maybe a professional counselor. Don’t be afraid to ask for help when you are hurting. There ARE people out there who want to help you heal.

And, hopefully this doesn’t stretch the metaphor too far (bear with me if it does!), just like healing ointments helped reduce my physical scar, the daily application of God’s word to our hearts brings healing like nothing else can.

And just like my physical scar – the reminder of wounds often remain with us. But they can heal, they can fade. They make us who we are, but they don’t need to define us. I am not the woman with the scar over her eye. I am God’s child. Clumsy. A tad iron-deficient. Vain. But God loves me, anyway. And He loves you, too. Scars and all.