Lessons of the Scars

We all (probably) have some. Those of us who were stupid young boys (wish there were a more delicate way to phrase that…) have a number. I have scars from just the typical male growing up…skinned knees, oyster-shell cuts (pretty much required when you grow up in/on the Choctawhatchee Bay as I did), bike-wreck reminders, etc. Then there are the ones inflicted intentionally by medical personnel: vaccinations, moles removed, etc.

And then there are those caused by…let’s say “should’ve-known-better-what-were-you-thinking?-stupidity.” This variety of scars shows up predominantly in males. I’ve got one of those, for example, caused by falling out of the back of a jeep rolling along at a pretty good clip…on asphalt…in Jacksonville, FL. (Let’s file the surrounding circumstances under “their sins I will remember no more” and move on, please…*sad sigh*). I have another of those from a burst of the aforementioned stupidity combined with athletic machismo. (I had very little game, but a lot of attitude…) I cut my heel fairly badly while in college. That happens sometimes. What doesn’t usually follow is this: against the better judgment and advice of my girlfriend (who is now my wife), I played an entire softball game instead of heading to the Dr. to get a couple of stitches. (I still remember the sensation of pulling off my cleat and discovering that the wet sensation I had been feeling out in rt. field was not the evening dew, but rather…well, blood., and that I'd need a new pair of cleats for the next game...) Then there’s the fact that I can fairly accurately predict when it’s going to rain because of multiple football games played…tackle, no pads…even in college when we might have known better.

There are other scars that are providentially placed without any overt male stupidity. Life happens under the hand of a mighty, sovereign God, and sometimes scars result.

And then there are the invisible scars. It seems that these are the most painful kind, and the ones that take the longest to heal. Some of these come from family situations, which is tragic. Others come from school situations. Still others from relationships. Frequently, these scars are the result of feeling left out. At times, that particular feeling is more apparent than real; we’ve not really been left after all…but at other times, the leaving is real. And irreversible. I still bear deep scars dating back to December 14, 1974. On that day, my Dad who was/is one of the greatest men I’ve ever known or known of, died suddenly of a heart attack when he was two years younger than I am now, and when I was a fairly insecure 15-year-old. I still don’t know why that happened (oh sure, medically, I know, but in terms of cosmic providence, I do not. And will not, this side of glory.) But here’s the thing about that particular scar—and I believe this applies to other similar scars. Though I don’t know and won’t know why, I eventually realized that my not knowing is OK. After a multi-year season of me protesting and whining and griping and leaving (or trying to, anyway), my God gently and graciously drew me back to truths about Him that I knew and had forgotten. When I cry “Why?? I don’t understand!” my Lord replies “I know…and you won’t understand…but trust Me!” (note: this would have been very little help to me had I been reminded of God’s grace-filled, loving providence on December 15, 1974…come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I was reminded by others, but didn’t care to hear it at that time…) I had some of these same thoughts when my buddy Jason entered glory this summer as a young man…and as another of the great men that I’ve known.

I was thinking of this while putting on a shirt the other day after Lisa doctored one of my most recent surgical scars. I remarked to her, “I look like I lost a knife fight!” (Rest easy; absolutely no pictures of this will be forthcoming here. You’re welcome! *grin*)

Think of the lessons of the scars. Whatever kind of scar.

“That hurt! Don’t do it again!”
After about my 8th sprained ankle, I finally figured out that playing tackle football without pads is not the best plan. And after about the 73rd bike crash, I discovered that slowing down just a bit and not wrecking the bike left me feeling much better than almost making the curve feels. This one also applies to some of the invisible scars. Being stupid with our heart & love hurts! Eventually most of us learn to be a bit more circumspect and to guard our hearts a bit more closely. Because of the scars.

“Remember this; you’re healthier because of it”
Applies to vaccine scars & to some other minor surgery scars. And to some of the relational scars too.

“Let this scar remind you of God’s grace toward you and of the brevity of life”
I have 10 scars related to a particularly scary sort of cancer. Which I am apparently free from now. Dr. Nagen Bellare & his team are awesome! Dr. Pecunia & his surgical team are great! Dr. Steven Conerly & the dermatology group are outstanding! At M.D. Anderson, Dr. Homsi, Dr. Kim, Dr. Hwu (both of them), & Dr. Mehran are wonderful, as are Fe, Meritas, and Jessie the nurse practitioners that I’ve spent some quality time with. M.D. Anderson is a place filled with amazing health care professionals, all dedicated to eradicating cancer. (I love that the phrase “eradicating cancer” appears in their mission statement, and that they really buy into that particular mission. Have you ever prayed for cancer researchers as they go about their work in the lab? I’m newly-mindful of that particular prayer concern) But as marvelous as all of those people are, and as skilled as they are at what they do—and they are very highly skilled!—I am here now because my Lord, the Great Physician, chose to use those people and others as tools in His mighty hands of earthly healing. Note: Dr. Bellare, my local oncologist, told us exactly that at our first appointment with him in 2005. He has repeated it to me in subsequent appointments.

So I rejoice in my 10 cancer-surgery scars, for they remind me to celebrate life and healing and health and skilled medical professionals, all of whom do their thing under the guiding hand of a loving God. Sure, I remember the pain of the surgeries—especially just now as I was re-booting my treadmill & weightlifting program!—but I hope the lessons of the scars always remind me that the pain was temporary and healing in its nature. Even the pain of losing my Dad...although "losing" is probably not the right word, for we know where he is, hallelujah! I pray that I always look past the scars to the One Who providentially ordered that they be necessary. I hope I never forget how utterly dependent I was while laid out in surgery recovery and in IL-2 ICU waiting. And that now that those are past, I am still just as utterly dependent on my God. As are you, by the way. I pray the scars always remind me “to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” Finally, I pray that they will always remind me, as the late, great Keith Green said, "life is short; eternity is long..."

What do your scars teach you? Are you listening to their lessons?