I thought he was crazy. Well, not him, exactly. I thought the idea was crazy. How could anybody want to come to me for advice on wholeness? Although much healing has happened, there is still healing to come. I don't know that I'll ever be fully whole--not till Jesus comes, anyway. I have learned how to cope, how to overcome, how to triumph over my various losses--but February still finds me depressed. I am ready for it now, but I am not at full strength from February 8, the day my husband got sick, to February 22, the day he died. On February 23, I am good to go. For most of the month of February, I can do my job, I can laugh and be with people, but there is always something reminds me, something that keeps me from being at my best. Doesn't this demonstrate that I am not able to tell you how to get over things?
I was in church today when I began thinking about the rest of the week. This is Holy Week. We begin this day by triumphantly marching into the church, palm branches in hand. But within 20 minutes (thanks, Father Bruce, for pointing this out), we are the crowd, brutally calling for Jesus' death. We continue solemnly on our way until we get to Thursday. In the strangeness of Holy Week time, we are back in the Upper Room, watching as the Lord washes the disciples' feet. The service ends with a tenebrae service. The altar is stripped of any sign of living worship. The Blessed Sacrament is removed from Tabernacle. Finally, all the candles are put out, and the church is left in total darkness. Then comes Good Friday, and the crucifixion. The altar is bare, the Host is gone, there is nothing left of the beauty and the glory that we experienced just the Sunday before--and there is no sign that in just three days we will experience Easter and the Lord's resurrection. That's right--in just three days Christ will appear, pure and whole and with no lingering signs of the trauma that he experienced, right?
No, of course that's not right. Jesus came back, scars intact. He could have healed himself--of course he could. Why did he not do for himself what he had done for so many others? Because it's by His scars that others knew him.
Yes, I have scars. So do you. But your scars are beautiful to God, and they're meaningful to others, too. It's by these very scars that others will see that you have walked where they are walking, and there is hope for them, since scars are healed wounds. If you can heal, so can they.
So yes, Adam. I will continue on the journey--and I will build my platform. I will allow others to see and experience my wounds, and hopefully they will understand through my story how their wounds can become healed and leave scars as well--scars that will bring others to themselves and foster healing. If my testimony can help even one person experience healing, then the scars are all worth while.