The Beauty of Scars

April 12, 2012

Driving to work this morning I was violating my own counseling words and was dwelling on things that aren’t true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, of good repute, of excellence, or worthy of praise.  It was a  pity party, plain and simple.  At that moment, I was jolted back to reality by a song introduction on “The Message,” a satellite radio station.  It was a new song by Jonny Diaz called Scars.  Jonny Diaz also sings one of my favorite songs called The Beauty of the Cross.  It is a joy-filled song that brings me back to a favorite verse of mine, 1 Cor. 1:18: “For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”  I wear a cross necklace every day to remind me of this.

You can watch the video of The Beauty of the Cross is here.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pze4kMuvcfk&feature=related

Watch the video of Scars here.  If there is a glitch with the video, the link is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbqs4vCXiOc

She holds for dear life to the ends of sleeves in her hands

Covering up lies that she wrote with a razor sharp pen

And the sting of the blade is no match for the pain of the loneliness she’s going through

But we’ve all been there too

Praise God we don’t have to hide scars

They just strengthen our wounds and they soften our hearts

They remind us of where we have been

But not who we are

So praise God, Praise God we don’t have to hide scars

You can still see the mark on his hand

Where there once was a ring

He watched decades of history dissolve when she wanted to leave

And the hole that it left there inside of his chest is a canyon a thousand miles deep

We all know how that feels

Praise God we don’t have to hide scars

They just strengthen our wounds and they soften our hearts

They remind us of where we have been

But not who we are

So praise God, Praise God we don’t have to hide scars

There once was a King who so burdened with grief

Walked into death so that we could find peace

He rose up with scars on His hands and His feet

By them we are healed

By them we are healed

So praise God we don’t have to hide scars

Yeah we know His are covering ours

Praise God we don’t have to hide scars

They just strengthen our wounds and they soften our hearts

They remind us of where we have been

But not who we are

So praise God, praise God

Oh His scars are covering ours

So praise God

We don’t have to hide scars

This song hits me for a couple of different reasons.  First, I am a counselor and a large part of my job is to help people heal wounds.  But, more importantly, it reminded me how healing it has been for me to write this blog.  I first told of my childhood of sexual abuse on Jan. 5, 1985. I was so full of shame that I could only tell a few, very select people.  Once in a while, when the mood struck me, I would tell someone just for shock value.  I know that that is a little twisted and honestly kind of mean to tell someone something like that just for the fun of seeing the expression on their face.  But, hey, at the time, I had to find some way to get a laugh.  As the years have passed and healing progressed, I told more people.  Then I started working as a counselor and have shared it with clients who either guessed it of me or seemed like they would just not feel so incredibly lonely and hopeless if they knew just one person who had overcome.

Last summer I crossed what I think is my last big hurdle in healing: I told my kids.  I had been thinking of doing it for a while and I’ve always known that one day I would tell them.  I was talking about it more and more to other people and I knew that one day I wanted to write about it all.  But they needed to hear it from me.  I needed to have them hear it from me.   I was so incredibly scared.  I didn’t think they would judge me poorly for it.  I was terrified of their pity.  But all I have felt from them is love.  No different, no less than before.

So, telling my kids freed me to write.  I used to write some free-lance stuff a few years ago and I stopped because nothing else but this stirred me to write.  Over the last 9 months or so, I had written several posts for this blog but couldn’t post them.  And, even after telling my kids, it took another 6 or 7 months to muster the guts to do it.  So I finally sat down at my computer and set up the blog, posted the first one secretly, and ran it past two select people for their feedback/blessing.  Several days passed again until I decided to do it.  I wrote the first group email announcing it and then sat there in fear.  I couldn’t close the deal and send the email.  After about an hour, I reached out to Tim, my rock, my encourager, my love, who said, “Push the button.”  We talked for another hour, and with him sitting beside me cheering me on, I hit “send.”

Posting the blog showed my scars to everyone.  It was scary.  I felt naked.  However, it’s been incredibly rewarding to not hide them anymore.  The response I’ve gotten has been phenomenal and I don’t  feel like I’m hiding some secret.  Long ago I had come to the realization that I no longer wish the abuse hadn’t happened.  Maintaining those regrets only fuels bitterness.  But never, until this morning, as I listened to Scars, had I thought my scars are beautiful.  They are reminders of what I’ve been through, but they are not who I am.  The open wounds kept me away from people, but my scars allow me to draw near.  My wounds made me feel alone and worthless, but Jesus’s scars covered them with His love.  That is beautiful.

Thank you God for opening my eyes this morning!