“Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13
There was a teenager who didn’t want to be seen in public with her mother, because her mother’s arms were terribly disfigured. One day when her mother took her shopping and reached out her hand, a clerk looked horrified. Later, crying, the girl told her how embarrassed she was.
Understandably hurt, the mother waited an hour before going to her daughter’s room to tell her, for the first time, what happened.
"When you were a baby, I woke up to a burning house. Your room was an inferno. Flames were everywhere. I could have gotten out the front door, but I decided I’d rather die with you than leave you to die alone. I ran through the fire and wrapped my arms around you. Then I went back through the flames, my arms on fire. When I got outside on the lawn, the pain was agonizing but when I looked at you, all I could do was rejoice that the flames hadn’t touched you." Stunned, the girl looked at her mother through new eyes. Weeping in shame and gratitude, she kissed her mother’s marred hands and arms.
Over two thousand years ago, a baby was born. A baby destined to sacrifice Himself to save the people He passionately loved. He lived 33 years... never sinned... and came face to face with a betrayer from His own inner circle. He gave himself up in a garden, was led to a mock trial, and sentenced to death by the same hands He had once knitted together. Mercilessly, He was whipped and beaten within an inch of his life. The wounds left behind by the instruments of torture left indelible marks in His flesh.
Scars that were hard to look at...
Eyes that dripped tears of love
As they put Him in the tomb, His journey was just beginning. Jesus ran through the flames of death... guarding humanity from it’s searing heat. He took the pain and punishment... the scars... the wounds... all to protect you and I, His masterpiece, from ever having to endure permanent separation from Him.
He emerged three days later... victorious. Stepping boldly into the warmth of the sun a new and resurrected victor. Scars intact. Holes still there. Clear indices that His pain had a purpose... His suffering and sacrifice had a reason...
I can imagine that when He looked down and saw those reminders on His skin, He smiled. He had won. He had protected us. And in His beautiful and perfect heart, He rejoiced that the flames never touched us. We emerged unhurt and He was the One who took the wounds.
Yet many today act embarrassed to be seen with Him.
- They’d rather blend in than stand up for Christ.
- They appreciate the scars but don’t share their meaning with those that seek.
- They live defeated and powerless lives because they try to do it under their own power.
- They avoid discussing their faith because they might be seen as odd or fear rejection.
- They know how to get to Heaven but won’t share the map with those that are still lost.
And many are lost.
They come seeking. They look for meaning. For hope. They search for the One who fills the hole in their heart... the One who made them a masterpiece... the One who heals, restores, and embraces.
They are looking for Christ.
And what will you tell them? Will His scars cause you to be embarrassed of Him... or tell others about Him? Will His nail-marred hands dissuade you from sharing His sacrifice and subsequent victory over death? Or will they inspire you to share your faith like never before? What is stopping you from giving someone the greatest gift they could ever receive: An opportunity to secure eternity by following the One who protected them with His loving arms?
Those beautiful nail-scarred arms. Scarred for us.
