Fixed Up Not Messed Up
Out of all the journeys I participated in this summer, going out west to Frontier Ranch was set apart from the other trips I experienced. It was a time where I faced my biggest fear: healing from past. I am blessed enough to have had a rally of a community behind me while I went through this process.
Our world has constantly told us from a young age “put a band-aid on it” and “suck it up.” I rarely take time to have a break-down because I feel as if I have something better to do- and I might. But, in Colorado I was faced with the hard truth: I have repressed so many emotions through these two years of “healing” so much so I healed on my own terms, alone.
My experiences have opened up this metaphoric wound. Being prideful and not wanting to ask for help on many occasions, I decided going to a professional was not the most convenient idea. My heart was torn and I figured I could heal myself without help. I stitched my heart and wounds together leaving it better looking but later found an infection, a nasty scar, and home-made stitches that wouldn’t even hold. Of course, this all being a metaphor because we easily have access to a doctor if we were truly wounded- but wait, we have an eternal doctor as well that is far more qualified to help than men. So why do we wait so long to ask him for help to heal our wounds?
Once my wound does heal, it is bound to leave a scar. One that is forever and will not go away. Some scars are bigger than others but they all hold a story. One scar on my elbow telling the story of me falling off of my bicycle in Beaufort, South Carolina. Another scar on my knee from a few surgeries. Other people have scars from surgeries removing cancer, redrafting physical appearances, birthing a child. All scars hold a memorable experience, similar to our hearts. My heart is filled with scars; but why am I so quick to hide them? Why are we so ashamed of our scars when we are told “our guilt is atoned for?” Isaiah 6:7
We believe we have scars because “we are ‘messed up’” rather than believing, “we have scars because we have been ‘fixed up.’” Claim your marks like Jesus claimed His!
So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though 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; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”
Jesus is perfect and flawless, was beaten and torn up with whips, chains, thorns and then nailed to a cross and then buried. When he came alive out of the tomb, his linens that were once bloody were white and clean (and folded, I might add), but still, he chose to keep his scars and showed them proudly to his disciples. Why did he keep his scars when he had the power to remove them? For truth, clarity, reminders of the pain he went through for the wisdom he gained.
If Jesus can keep his scars, why do I try to hide mine?
Frontier Ranch encouraged me to be proud of my trials because I have overcome them. I am no longer a victim, I have been stitched up into a victor!