I have two scar stories. Both involve my left leg.

In elementary school while at recess, I fell onto an jagged metal pipe sticking up from the blacktop playground and ripped open a crazy deep wound. (I’m still coming to terms that my elementary school had recess on blacktop with open metal pipes!) My mom worked for weeks to keep that gash from getting infected.

That scar is permanent. For a while.

The second wound happened about a decade ago at a resort pool. While walking around the pool, my feet got caught in the chair legs and I went down. Hard. On the concrete. I turned over. Looked at Jeff. Said, “It hurts.” And promptly fainted. But thankfully at that point I was already “down” and didn’t fall a second time! EMS arrived. I answered all questions satisfactorily and we went home.

And that scar is permanent. For a while.

When I see the scars on my legs, I remember my stories. My wound stories. I remember why my body is permanently disfigured. For a while.

Jesus has a scar story. His head. His hands. His feet. His side. Wounds that disfigured Him. Permanently.

When He appeared to His disciples in His resurrected body, He showed them the scars. That Body still carries the marks that will bring us Home.

Someday our eternal bodies will be glorified. And for all eternity those bodies will be flawless. But Jesus body will continue to bear the perfect imperfections.

His is the BEST scar story EVER.

happily ever after, beth