Jesus still has his scars.

 [November 2007, India.  Trying to make sense of things.]

Yesterday I spent two and a half hours reading through the story of
Jesus, according to Luke, with the women that I'm doing life with
right now.  We needed to hear the story again, we needed to hear the
words of this man that we're following and see how he lived, how he
loved, what he cared about and what he hated, how he prayed, what he
taught, what he felt.

I choked on tears as I read about his death.

The crowds who shouted Hosanna because of the deeds of power they saw
couldn't follow him to his time of ultimate weakness.  They chose the
murderer Barabus instead.  They weren't ready for the revelation of
love and power through the Lamb that is slain.  Peter was ready to
kill for Jesus, but he wasn't ready to die with him.



But God vindicated Jesus when he raised him from the dead--screaming
to the world that love is stronger
than even death and that everything that Jesus lived and taught is
truer than everything that we know.

Then the risen Jesus appeared to his terrified disciples and said 'Why are
you frightened and why do doubts arise in your hearts?  See my hands
and my feet.'

What do the scars on Jesus' resurrected body mean for a mother
birthing a stillborn baby, for a man who's son is missing, for a
nation being destroyed by war, for the fear and selfishness that too
often surfaces in my own heart.  I'm not sure.  But Jesus says, 'See,
my hands and my feet.'

I have a scar on my left hand from a devastating accident that is like the signature of the
living God on my life.  And when I'm feeling swallowed up, I hear him
say, 'becca, why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your
heart? see your hand.  I'm alive.'

I like that the resurrected body of Jesus still has his scars. And I imagine that when the nations are healed and the earth is new, we'll still have our scars too.