Even though I was just nine years old, I was always eager for the holidays so that I could take a break from the rigors of school. With summer coming, my brother and I were very excited about the days to come. But summer vacation hadn’t arrived yet, and somehow my mother knew exactly what we were thinking. That’s why she said in a loud voice, “You can’t go out to play until you finish your homework. You must study first, then you can play.” So, my brother and I had to stay at home and do our homework. Then our mother told us that she was going to go out to the family farm and reminded us that we had to stay home and finish our homework. It was such good news for us! We were suddenly free, and as soon as mother left, we immediately went outside to play.
It was a sunny and windy afternoon, and we could see birds in the sky and trees swaying in the breeze. Shortly, we found three friends and then set out for the woods which was our paradise during our childhood. We played hide and seek, and later felt a bit tired, and so we jumped onto a plot of tall grass, and that’s when the accident happened. I stumbled and fell, feeling a sharp pain in my leg. Something sharp was hidden in the tall grass, and when I rolled over, I saw a huge wound in my leg. I knew it was deep as blood began to flow from the wound.
Every pore of my body was filled with fear. I was afraid to look at the bleeding wound, so I covered it with my hands. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I shouted to my friends, “Please hurry! Tell my mother I am hurt.” They were also scared because of my wound, and immediately went to find my mother. When they left I tried to move toward the road by myself, but my leg couldn’t support me, and I fell down again. Fortunately, a neighbor saw that I needed help and brought me to the road. My leg was bleeding and the blood and soil were mixed into mud. I wished that my mother would come soon, but she didn’t. Time passed slowly as I waited for her.
Finally, my mother arrived and said, “Don’t worry, I will bring you to a hospital, and you will be OK.” I also saw fear and worry in her own eyes as she tried her best to comfort me. With the help of others, I finally arrived at the hospital. I spent almost two hours in the emergency room with my mother covering my eyes so that I couldn’t see the wound. On our way back home, my mother didn’t blame me, but only encouraged me, even though it was my fault for disobeying her by going out to play. Even though she encouraged me, I could tell that she was worried about my wound.
For the entire summer holiday, I couldn’t walk on my leg, and had to stay in bed all day. What a heavy price to pay for my disobedience. Every morning my mother brought me to the hospital to change the bandages, and when we were home, she looked after me closely. Every day she prepared much food which I liked, and she stayed at home with me and made my friends come to our house and play. By the end of the summer, I could walk and play as before the accident. However, I realized that a scar had formed on my leg, and that scar remains on my leg to this day.
The scar will never disappear. It is part of me. But I am grateful because it not only reminds me of my disobedience, but also of my mother’s love. She cares about me and about everything I do. A mother’s love is like a circle, as it has no beginning and no ending. Mother’s love is the greatest love in the world, and she never thinks about receiving anything back from me. I pay her back by not doing things that make her worry, and so while I am studying for my PhD, I call her frequently so she won’t feel lonely. The scar will never disappear, but neither will my mother’s love.
Additional Comments – I’m sure that we can all point to one or more physical scars that we carry due to accidents that we have suffered. I remember as a Boy Scout thinking that I was pretty handy with a knife, only to find that the knife had a mind of its own, slicing right through the rope I was cutting and heading straight for the thumb on my left hand. It took seven stitches to close the wound, and that wound developed a scar that I carry with me always. This scar, which I’m looking at right now, is a reminder for me to always be careful when handling sharp knives!
When Jacob was returning to the land of Canaan after running away twenty years prior to the land of Haran to escape his angry brother Esau, he had made it big, so to speak. Being a “self-made man,” He had wives, children (his twelve sons would become the leaders of the twelve tribes of Israel), sheep, cattle, goats, and many servants, but one thing was missing, in all those years, he had never really connected with God. Because God had a plan for Jacob, it was time to get some things settled. One night, by the Jabbok River (a tributary of the Jordan), an angel showed up and wrestled with Jacob all night. The wrestling match tested Jacob’s strength to the limit, but in the end, the angel finally prevailed by striking Jacob in the joint of his hip, dislocating it. Jacob fell to his knees and relented of his pride and self-sufficiency, and in the morning, Jacob walked away from the encounter with a severe limp. And that limp stayed with him the rest of his life.
Jacob’s limp was a reminder of the night that he and God “had it out.” A fight to the finish, so to speak. A fight as to who was going to control his life. Was it going to be more of the same, or was he going to surrender to God and allow Him to direct his paths? At the end of the fight, Jacob was given a new name, Israel, and as he left the Jabbok, he was a changed man. From that day on, Jacob walked with a limp, serving as a constant reminder to always surrender his will to God.
But Jacob was not the only one in the Bible to bear a “scar.” Jesus bore scars in His resurrected body. He invited His disciples to see His hands and His feet where nails pierced them, and to look at his side where the sword was thrust. For Jesus’ disciples, the scars were reminders of the price that He paid for our redemption from the penalty and power of sin. And whenever we receive communion, we are reminded that we are to “do this in remembrance of Me.” Yes, a reminder of His body that was nailed to the cross and his blood that was shed for the forgiveness of our sins.
I am fully aware that for many, the emotional scars that we carry can be even more devastating than any physical scar. Scars of verbal, emotional, and even sexual abuse run deep and can be humiliating as well as debilitating. All forms of abuse are just plain wrong and grieve God. I know that every situation is different, but God knows all about the details, along with the hurts and pains that many carry. But I am confident that when we cast our cares upon Him, He will care for us (1 Peter 5:7), and that He will heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds (Ps. 147:3).
Each one of us has a least one “scar of remembrance.” I pray that God will heal each wound that we carry, and that the “scar” will serve as a reminder of God’s matchless love and amazing grace.
