Faith Words: Scars

It's been almost 3 years since I had surgery on my shoulder.  I used to think it began that day in March 2013 when I fell off the treadmill and shredded what was left of my rotator cuff, but I've come to know that it started long before that.

Over the years, other falls, overuse or misuse worked on that part of my shoulder, weakening it little by little till the fall finished it off along with the bicep muscle that had been attached to it. Then, suddenly, I was in pain and I couldn't raise my arm or extend it fully.  I couldn't lift what I had been able to.  I'd pushed it beyond its limit and it snapped.

I consulted with one doctor who wasn't too concerned. After all, I was nearly 60 - ready for a rocking chair on a porch somewhere, I suppose. When I asked him what he'd do if he was in my position, he laughingly said he'd probably have surgery, if it affected his golf game.  His golf game.  Thanks for caring.

So, I talked to my sister-in-law who'd had knee replacement surgery.  She recommended I contact the clinic where she'd received care.  Good advice.  It put me in touch with someone who thought my shoulder and I weren't beyond help.

The surgeon I saw was topnotch.  He confirmed the damage and pointed out that the final tears weren't the first - that other injuries, both small and large, had contributed to the condition of my shoulder, leaving it pretty much useless.  He went in, cleaned it up and put a small skin graft over the old rotator cuff to help stabilize it and give it some strength.

Well, anyway, three years later, I have decent use of my arm with some limitations.  My shoulder and I have an understanding now of how far I can push it and when to ask for help.  I have a small scar to remind me.

My scar reminds me of the damage I once did to my shoulder and it reminds me of the healing I received from a God-gifted surgeon.  It also reminds me to be thankful for where I am now.   My scar reminds me of how much I went through to get my shoulder back. My shoulder is not perfect but it's no longer useless.

Our scars, both external and internal, are reminders of what we've been through.  I have a dear friend who tells her life story about how she tried to fix the broken pieces of her life on her own.  But that didn't work.  It didn't go back together the way it should and the wounds didn't heal properly. Then, she let Jesus work on her.  He carefully and skillfully put her broken pieces back together - each piece in place.  But He left the scars.  They remind her of how much she's been delivered from, of the healing Jesus has provided.

Jesus has scars, too, on His hands, on His feet, on His side - from wounds He received on the cross.   These scars remind Him of how much He went through to get us back from our brokenness.  These scars remind Him of how much He loves us.

Have you been wounded and broken?  Have you tried to fix your brokenness yourself?  Have you heard satan laugh at you and tell you you're beyond help?

It's time to let the Great Physician work on you.  He has skill you never knew existed.  His touch will bring you healing and hope.   When your scars are the result of the Healer's touch, they're not ugly, they're not signs of failure.  They're signs of victory.  You're not useless - you've been redeemed.

Me, too.

Patrice

Isaiah 49:16a (NIV)

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands....