scars
I attended a funeral today. A father to one of my best friends. It's true that I didn't know the man well. Listening to his children speak today, however, made one thing clear: we all have scars. And that somehow binds us all. I've had my fair share of pain. The brokenness of this world has broken me. And I could list a thousand reasons why I'm not thankful for that; why it makes me angry or sad or hurt... still. I could easily recall how lost and empty I felt. I could still cry. But... I can list one and ONLY one why I am thankful for the scars: because without them I wouldn't know who Jesus is. Who He REALLY is. This doesn't dull the pain. And it doesn't nullify it, either. But it has somehow, finally, made it okay. I know, without a doubt, that I have known Jesus in His suffering... in my suffering. And He was there. We were bound before by His infinite mercy and sacrifice, but we are now doubly bound by His compassion and care over me. My friend&