The marks of death that God chose never to erase
The wounds of love's eternal war
When the kingdom comes with its perfected sons
He will be known by the scars
These words are from Michael Card’s 1984 release “Known by the Scars.” The title has stuck with me all these years. To think, we will recognize Jesus by His scars.
Back in the day, as a new believer, I pondered…
Why would God keep the physical scars of Jesus’ brutal crucifixion visible for eternity?
How could it be that His resurrected and glorified body is marred?
And now, years later, I consider my own scars, both in body and soul, and wonder…
Do Jesus’ eternal wounds somehow heal my personal woundedness?
Speaking of wounds, I recently visited the dermatologist for a full body scan—yes, awkward! As the doctor looked over my crusty legs, I noted, with some embarrassment, how scarred and bruised both shins are from my recently acquired habit of mountain biking—more accurately, trail riding, since here in Florida it’s hard to find a mountain to bike on. Several years of bounding over Palmetto roots, careening through thorny scrub, and scraping past the gnarly pines have left me with a good bit of “trail rash” on the lower legs.
Then there are the spiked pedals—ouch! When working for your benefit, the little knobs help your furiously-pedaling feet keep a grip, but when the inevitable slip of the foot comes—usually right when you’re trying to pull out of a swampy ravine—the pedal becomes your nemesis as it slams into your shin, taking a slice of skin with it on its wild revolution.
I said to the doctor, “I’m sorry you have to look at these ugly legs.” To me she graciously responded, “These legs are not ugly, just well-used.”
And isn’t that the way of life? From life’s trials, we bear scars, both inside and out, and it embarrasses us to acknowledge them before others. Yet, they persist as mute testimony of a life fully lived, a life that has embraced the adventure that Jesus offers as “life more abundant.” (John 10:10)
Further down the trail in John’s Gospel we read…
Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!”
(John 20:26-28)
Thomas was certain it was his resurrected Lord and God standing before him. How? By the scars on his God.
The One who could walk through locked doors and step off the earth and into the clouds chose by His scars to prove Himself “the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25). Then, when John gets the revelation from heaven, he sees a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain (Revelation 5:6). Imagine, the way, the truth, and the life, recognizable by the scars of death.
As Pastor Adrian Rogers taught us, “The only man-made things in Heaven are the scars that we made in the hands and feet and side of the Lord Jesus.”
It was me. It was you. It was our sin that etched those scars, and now, must we be reminded of our murderous deed for eternity? No, not reminded with condemnation on God’s part, nor with crushing remorse on ours. Instead, reminded of what has always been greater than our sin and by which we are saved…
GRACE.
But where sin abounded, grace abounded much more, so that as sin reigned in death, even so grace might reign through righteousness to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
(Romans 5:20b-21)
Praise God for His amazing grace! By this grace, Jesus is scarred for life. By this grace, we who have been crucified with Christ (Galatians 2:20) and bear the death marks of Jesus (Galatians 6:17) are also scarred for life—eternal life, that is, including the abundant life God has for us this side of eternity.
Surely, he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed. (Isaiah 53:4-5)
But what of the scars on our souls that we suffer in this fallen realm? Is there grace for those too? Indeed, for while these marks remind us of the painful path we’ve trod, they also recall all we have overcome in the journey. While the soul scars recount the pain, they also testify that we didn’t just play it safe—we got in the fight, and the struggle was worth the pain.
Adrian Rogers again: “A scar is a wound that is healed. You need to let Jesus heal your wounds and then use that as a testimony for Him.”
And there’s the best thing we could ever do with our pain and scars: Point people to Jesus and His Gospel. Tell of His wounds that heal us. Tell of His amazing grace.
When our Lord comes again, we will behold the scars He received at our hand. His scars testify that our high priest who suffered for us now suffers with us.
For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.
(Hebrews 4:15-16)
I leave you with the story of my ugliest scar—external, that is. (We would need another article for the internal ones.)
I was speeding up to a rickety wood-plank bridge over a marshy stream. It was raining miserably, so trail conditions were slick to muddy to flooded. Just shy of the bridge was a shallow puddle, or so I thought. My front tire dropped into a deep hole and didn’t come out. Inertia took over and I vaulted over the handlebars, landing flat on my back. Body check: No breaks, no blood, no problem!
I snatched up my trusty bike, but since I was at the narrow bridge and knew I wouldn’t balance well without some momentum, I decided to walk the bike over the bridge. Major mistake…
Halfway across, I stepped on a board that proved to be loose on the other end. Gravity prevailed, and down went my left foot, lacerating my tender shin on the rugged boards. Then centrifugal force brought the loose board up and over, launching me and my bike right into the creek.
This being Florida, my first thought was, “Snakes!” (Like Indiana Jones, I hate snakes.) Fortunately, none were waiting to bite me, so my only injuries were the bloody gash to my shin and the insult to my pride. I struggled out of the slimy water and prickly brush to ride on to glory.
There’s no real moral to that story, just this: The scars we bear from an abundant life, both inside and out, serve to remind us that, just maybe, the gain was worth the pain.
In Jesus, we are scarred by death. Like Jesus, we are scarred for life.
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. (Psalm 147:3)
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