As I was reading my Bible this morning, bumping the fleshy part of my left hand uneasily kept bringing to memory the reason why it was so tender, and why the red, swollen abrasion needed to avoid being bumped.It was the latest of over seventy scars counted on my two hands.
Reflecting on them, a heartening sermon arose. Besides this latest one, only three of them could evoke the memory of causes. One came of dressing rabbits as a lad, another from extracting a nipple from a broken baby bottle during a high school initiation, the the third from a doctor's two incisions from going after a half inch long, plywood sliver he never found. (It eventually came out of its own accord after about six months).
Think of this! Four of the largest scars were there from injuries I could not even recall!
Strangely, the ones easiest remembered are the latest - this last one from a naughty piece of concrete rebar that rolled into and tore a hole in my hand.
The truth that you can seldom work without getting injuries is equally true as we labor for the Lord in the work of His heavenly kingdom. The bruises of misunderstanding, and the lacerations of criticisms, are certain to be a part of church work. As much as we try to avoid them, and as much as we want them never to happen, they will occur with just about as much regularity as scratches, cuts, bruises and injuries to our bodies as we work with our hands.
How heartening it is to remember the story of scars. A few of them can be remembered, but most are blissfully forgotten.
By W.L. Boone
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