A Matter of Faith...

By Carol Round

The Scars Never Fade

Now as Jesus was going up to Jerusalem, he took the twelve disciples aside and said to them, “We are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will turn him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified. On the third day he will be raised to life!" Matthew 20:17-19 (NIV)

A scar on my large right toe is a reminder of the time I dropped a Mason jar, which shattered and cut the skin. I was 10. Before I dropped the jar, it was a prison for a frog, captured during a neighborhood game.

A scar, running the length of my abdomen, is testimony to God’s plan for my life. At age 17, my appendix ruptured, but the doctor treating me was unsure of the symptoms. I lay in a hospital bed for three days before the physician performed exploratory surgery. My pancreas was inflamed but the doctor could not tell my parents why. Ten years later, another abdominal surgery revealed pieces of the ruptured appendix wrapped around my intestines. Another doctor said, “You must have had a guardian angel watching over you.”

Twenty years later, a surgeon left another scar. The results of this surgery and the events leading up to it, confirmed that God really does have a plan for my life. The small scar on my left breast is a reminder that I am blessed to be a cancer survivor.

Three more tiny scars now grace my body after I had gall bladder surgery two years ago. One day soon after that, I realized that I had lost my tonsils, my appendix and my gall bladder. I jokingly told the Lord, “God, I can’t spare any more body parts.”

I was joking at the time but I am now more aware of my healthy blessings. When I see someone, badly scarred from an accident, or who is the victim of abuse, I feel humbled that God has spared me further external scars.

Others are not so blessed. Their scars run deep. They are more than physical. Scars that penetrate the skin and the tissue underneath and cut to the core of the being cannot be seen, but they hurt just as much, if not more.

Imagine Jesus. Hung on a cross. Pierced by nails for our transgressions. Spit from tormentors dries on His body. Blood runs down His face. Stripes on His back produce welts that fester and rub against the rough wood. A crown of thorns forced into His scalp adds to the excruciating suffering as the hours pass.

He knew beforehand. He predicted this gruesome death. He voluntarily endured the pain of crucifixion.

“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Those desolate words could leave us saddened. Instead, they give hope.

The scars never fade. Neither will His incredible love for humanity. He endured it for me. He suffered for you. He did it for all of us.

A collection of Carol Round’s most popular faith-based columns is now available in book form. For more information, readers can reach her at carolaround@yahoo.com.