Beautiful Scars.

His pain did not last forever. The moment the seal of darkness broke from the tomb, and death no longer held power within, without; He was healed. Yet the scars proved the wounds. His scars bear the only traces of our forgiven sin.

If His wounds were left open...if He lingered at death's door, God's healing work would have been incomplete. And His work was finished. The scars can hurt Him no more.

Usually it's my most painful wounds that scar. Or most shameful. Or most careless. And long before the wounds heal, they fester. 

There's Balm in Gilead. And when He heals, wounds become scars that prove the Healer and the scars, prove the healing work of His, and it's beautiful-- like scars over a pregnant womb. And when they no longer hurt, the healing is work is finished. And because His wounds healed, so can mine. That's what makes His scars so beautiful.

God could have healed Jesus while he was taken from the cross-- in the sight of all; could have healed Him on the first day. Yet He did heal Him on the third day. Quietly. It took patient waiting, and it was perfect timing. Christ placed His life and death in His Father's will.

Beautiful scars that were once wounds remind me of His love today. Just as His love reminds me that my wounds are what His scars stand for. 

And because we live in a world with jagged edges-- a Savior who binds wounds will always be what we need. 

And nothing will be more beautiful than His scars.

Together in grace, 

Amy