A scar is something that most people wouldn’t be proud of. In fact, scars are almost seen as a deformity in our culture. People have medical procedures to increase or reduce some part of their body and the big selling point is that there will be no scars. People strive for perfection in their body, but they are selling themselves short.

Scars remind us of where we’ve been.

I can look at a scar and remember the time that I was assaulted by furniture while helping Jon Brecke move. I’ll always look at that scar and remember the time that I got to spend with him and his family before he moved to Blythe Buckeye.

Scars remind us that life is precious.

A risk of skin cancer runs in my family. I guess it could theoretically run in every family, but a high risk runs in ours. About 5 years ago, my doctor became concerned about a mole on my back. The doctor ordered a biopsy and had most of the mole removed. They tested it and it came back that it wasn’t cancerous, but it could have become so. They decided to go back in and take the rest of the mole out of there. By no means was this a life-threatening experience, but to a 19 year old, “biopsy” and “cancer” are scary words.

Scars remind us of mistakes.

For some reason, I couldn’t get a picture of this scar. I think it’s starting to go away as my behavior starts to settle down. I used to help the high schoolers at my church with their worship practices. I’d show up and help them through their set, help them stay focused, and provide some suggestions. One night after practice, we were a little crazy. One of the high schoolers sprinted out of the room and I chased after him. I grabbed his arm just as he ran around an open door. My arm caught a sharp piece of metal on the door and sliced a 4-inch gash into my forearm. It instantly swelled and turned purple - and was bleeding, of course.

For a leader to be behaving so erratically is ridiculous. I had no good excuse to be running around chasing people, but I was. And I paid the price. This scar wasn’t only physical. Although I probably wouldn’t hurt myself by running around foolishly again, I might hurt my reputation. It’s not worth the risk.

Scars make us unique.

I have other scars that I don’t even remember where they came from. I have a scar on my knee that must have been from riding my bike when I was younger. I have a scar on my forehead that I’ve been told was from hitting my head when I was really little. It doesn’t matter what the scars are from. I know that no one else in the world has scars like mine. That makes me unique.

Scars are more than just physical deformities. They’re not meant to be covered or removed. They are there to be visual reminders of how we’ve lived.

This entry was posted on Monday, February 20th, 2006 at 10:45 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.