The Ugly Parts of Our Past Have a Story- Here's Mine. - Live Loved

Drops hit the windshield as I drove my little red car. It was impossible to see beyond the white sheet of rain. Dark clouds covered any hint of sunshine wanting to poke through, a puddle that had collected near the side of the road splashed into an overflowing ditch I was driving next to. I turned on the radio singing loud enough to drown out the sound of the rain. It was a dark and dreary day.

The sun peeked through the clouds a few hours later, and I could finally feel its warmth on my skin. The day that was warned to have a potential tornado still had a little sunshine to it.

I guess the same can be said about the days we have, too. About a year ago, I had one of those emotionally dreary days with a hard few months leading up to it. It was one of those days you figure you’ll never forget, and the flashbacks of the events leading up to it won’t let you.

It was hard to see past what I was feeling in that moment. I figured a year later I would be in the same place, upset about the same things and mad about the realizations I had come to.

What I’ve come to realize is that I’m thankful for the sunshine that pokes through even on dreary days.

It’s been one year. One year of freedom, and I have the scars to prove it. I run my finger along the traces of evidence that resulted from the deep wounds that were once there. Now, sealed and visible for anyone to see if they get close enough. They were never physically there, but I can feel them.

I look at the scars I have, and I’m disgusted. Embarrassed, even. The deep cuts and hard stabs are repulsing reminders of the grief that I don’t wish to relive. The marks that are left I don’t wish for anyone to see. I attempt to cover any trace of them; along with every memory that shaped them, every word that placed them and the person who gave them to me.

They are proof of a season I decided was no good because the process of fighting it didn’t feel good.

The scars from the past have a way of sharing stories we don’t want to tell. I was ashamed of the story mine told. They don’t tell the tale of an exciting story or brag of a fun adventure. The scars reflect the most vulnerable parts of myself that I don’t want to admit to others, or myself, that are there. Honestly, it was a vulnerable part I was afraid of remembering.

It seems the scars that leave the biggest marks are the scars that tell the hardest parts of our stories. We deem them unworthy of being shown or talked about because we think they’re too ugly to be seen.

It’s a reasonable thought, but I think that’s where we let the lies speak to us louder than the truth.

I think it’s the scars we feel are the ugliest parts of OUR story that are the ones beautifully used by God to tell HIS story.

I’m reminded of a particular day about 2,000 years ago. It was dark and rainy, no sunshine making its way through the clouds. The crowd was chanting; mocking and beating the innocent man whose name was Jesus. As Jesus was put on the cross, the Roman soldiers drove nails into His hands. A crown of thorns drove a sharp pain through His temples as it poked through His head. The moment came when He took His final breath and darkness fell over the earth.

But it didn’t stay dark. Three days later the clouds rolled away just like the stone at the entrance to His tomb, and the sun was shining again. There was no more darkness because Jesus was alive! When He rose, we see from various accounts what Jesus did next:

He appeared to His disciples and said, “’See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me and see.’” Luke 24:39

Go to John 20:19-20 and it says, “’Peace be with you.’ When He had said this, He showed them (the disciples) His hands and His side.”

Skip a few verses down to verse 27 when Jesus is speaking with His disciple Thomas: “Then He said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve but believe.’”

Jesus had scars.

Pause. Take a moment and let that sink in.

Jesus, the perfect Son of God, had scars. The marks from the nails that were meant to defeat Him, He claimed victory over; and He has the scars to prove it.

What we see from these verses is that Jesus didn’t attempt to hide them or get rid of them, though He could have. He showed others! Why?

The scars weren’t a sign that Jesus died. It was a STORY with living PROOF of the VICTORY He has!!! Death did not win!!! Yes, He endured pain; but He didn’t stay in pain. He conquered death so that we could have LIFE and live it abundantly for Him.

The scars told a greater story that didn’t end with His death. They were a crucial part of the process to how he OVERCAME death.

Let this be the ultimate example. The scars we think are the hardest parts of OUR stories are the scars that God uses to beautifully tell HIS story.

If you keep reading beyond the verses mentioned earlier, after Jesus’s encounter with Thomas, it says, “Thomas answered Him, ‘My Lord and my God,” (John 20:27). Keep reading beyond John 20:19-20, and it says, “Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord” (vs 20). And lastly Luke 24:52 says, “And they worshipped Him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy and were continually in the temple blessing God.”

What an encouragement! The disciples saw Jesus’s scars and they were filled with joy! They were filled with praise! They were filled with awe!

This means we can rejoice in our scars because Jesus has claimed victory over the enemy!!! It is through HIS grace and HIS strength, not ours, that we can use our stories the enemy meant to defeat us with. We can use them as stories of REDEMPTION!!!

Find peace in that. Please, find peace in that.

There is peace in your confusion, there is joy in your grief, there is a purpose in your pain and there is hope for your future!

So, friend, please do not be discouraged by your story or by your scars. They are not meant to be hidden. They are not meant for you to be ashamed of. They are meant to be seen, and your story is meant to be told. You did not go through that for nothing.

You. Have. Purpose. Your scars have a purpose. The ugliest parts of our stories are the most beautifully used by God for His purpose.

Your scars tell a greater story of Jesus’ love for you.