Scars

Scars.

Where his breasts once were. 

Where the man she trusted betrayed her with his fists.

Where the tumor will most likely make its reappearance.

Where shards of glass penetrated her once perfect skin.

Where years of hard work have retired in honor.

Where her son entered the world against all odds.

Where childhood neglect has left its mark inside and out.

Where her momentum carried her farther and faster than toddler legs were able to go.

Where the drugs that hold him forge their chains.

Where she has tried to excise the loneliness and imperfection in her heart.

At birth, we receive our first scar. For most, it sits unassumingly in the center of our bodies and is rarely given much thought. It's the scars that are unique to our story that receive the attention. Some are worse than others, have been there longer, are more visible; some remind us of better days, or remind us of unbearable pain. Some are old and faded with time; others demand attention and are painfully new. Some refuse to remain hidden and somehow are made more visible by the ghoulish color of shame. 

I sat looking at my scars the other day-- the ones I can see. So many. So many imperfections and stories to tell and foolish things I've done. The scars that don't show are easily the worst. Rejection and betrayal, callousness and lies. But I won't go there. Reopen those wounds.

I wonder from time to time how God sees my scars. Does He hope I have learned something from them? Does He hope that each time I see one, I will recall the pain and deny the urge to revisit those places? or I will remember where I used to be in light of where He has brought me now? Does He wish I would just put them away and stop fixating on them? Does He even see them, or does the blood of His Son cover the reminders of a world gone wrong? Will I see hands scarred for me when we meet face to face?

My thoughts are interrupted as Luci rests her warm face on my knees. I see her scars. The things she has endured. Her fight to be absolved of the fear she once felt. She has come so far, barely raising her head when my husband vacuums or the sky thunders now. Her scars fill me with compassion for her. I want to encourage her to keep going, to tell her I will be with her, I will help her. I want to tell her there is nothing to fear, that I have scars too. I want to tell her that what others did to her was wrong, but I will lead her into making something better of it; that her scars can be proof of terrible things transformed into beauty.

And I know I have heard God speak.

Location, Location, Location

You don't have to be Magellan to know location is important. You don't want to drive six hours in the wrong direction. You don't want your child boarding the casino bus instead of the school bus. You don't want your dry cleaning thrown into the same bag as your household rags. Location can make all the difference. Even in the Bible. Years ago, I discovered this article on Matt's Bible Blog: Look to the East: What Do Directions Mean in the Bible? I'm not going to steal his thunder; I encourage you to read his article. But briefly, he talks about the significance of moving from East to West, and the importance of moving toward/ closer to God in our relationship with Him.

In Genesis 24, it is time for Abraham to find his son, Isaac, a bride. Abraham asks his servant to swear he will make certain the woman Isaac marries will not be of the Canaanites, the land in which Abraham was living, but would be found in the land from which Abraham had come, in Mesopotamia. The servant questions Abraham as to what he should do if the young lady is unwilling to leave her home and travel with him to Canaan: Must I take your son back to the land from which you came? But Abraham is adamant, Isaac should not return to his family's ancestral home (v.6-8). Here's my question: If the women in Mesopotamia were suitable enough for bride material, why would the place not be suitable enough for Isaac to live there? How was it a good enough place to raise the mother of your grandchildren, but not your grandchildren? Turns out, Mesopotamia was not the issue, Canaan was. God had called His people, Abraham and his descendants, to live in Canaan, not Mesopotamia. For Isaac to return to a place from which God had called his father, and by extension Isaac, would be disobedient and unproductive. (Think: Israel grumbling in the wilderness after they'd been called out of slavery in Egypt, putting your hand to the plow and looking back, or the disciples returning to their fishing nets after Jesus' murder and resurrection, rather than continuing to fish for men, as they had been called.) It would not have been in accordance with God's blessing. Additionally, they would not have been bringing Isaac's bride into blessedness and into the land promised by God to His people. 

Before I get to relevance, let me also point out Exodus 3:1-6. While Moses tended his father-in-law's flocks, he saw a bush blazing with fire but unravaged. He approached for a closer look at this wonder, and God spoke to him: Do not draw near this place. Take your sandals off your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground. Now, we know, removing shoes is a sign of respect; it is said that, in ancient days, slaves served barefoot, communicating submission and readiness to run. But someone also brought to my attention the rough terrain of the mount on which Moses stood. Removing his shoes would probably make leaving the area an uncomfortable proposition. Essentially, God had Moses' full acquiescence. Interesting, thought, huh?

So, what am I saying? Well, the Bible talks a lot about walking-- particularly, walking in a way that is wise, imitating Christ. We are admonished to stand and hold our ground, as well as to remain near, draw in closely to the Lord. Location is important. We can place our feet in the footsteps of Jesus, doing life the way He did, or we can go it on our own and reap as we sow. We can stand our ground, knowing that Jesus is the rock on which we build our life; or we can attempt to build our life around stuff and the pursuit of stuff, friends and the pursuit of friends, or whatever else seems right to us at the time. We can draw in near to God and know His protection, draw close to hear His voice with clarity, stay within His arm's reach and feel His presence leading us; or we can run as far and as fast as we can, hoping to leave Him in the dust and actually do well with that. (We don't. Trust me when I tell you.) Scripture tells us we are sojourners here on earth. We are not meant to lead static and unproductive lives, tied to the things of this earth and setting up camp as though we will never leave. We are called to more, to a better place; but we are called to follow Christ as He leads us there, to obey His voice and travel when and to whatever location He commands.