The Identifying Scars
Sermon
An Idle Tale Becomes Good News
Messages On Lent And Easter Themes
On his pilgrimage to the Celestial City, in John Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress, Faithful is overtaken by a man who mauls and batters him mercilessly. He is unable to resist his strength, so he pleads with him to have mercy upon him. But the strong man answers, "I know not how to show mercy," and knocks him down again.
Later, in relating this experience to Christian, Faithful says, "He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by and bid him forbear."
"Who was that that bid him forbear?" Christian asks, and Faithful answers: "I did not know him at first; but as he went by I perceived the holes in his hands and his side; then I concluded that he was our Lord."1
Those were the marks and proofs of his identity on which Christ himself relied. In helping his friends to recognize him after his resurrection, he did not call attention to the features of his face nor to the color of his eyes or his hair nor to the size or shape of his body. Instead, he said, "Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself." Then "he showed them his hands and his feet" (the Gospel of John says that he showed them his side, too). By those scars they recognized him as their crucified and risen Lord.
Those scars were the marks of identity for which the disciples were looking. Indeed, Thomas said that he would not believe that Jesus was alive until he had seen and felt his scars. No doubt others felt the same. But Jesus did not condemn them for this. In fact, it appears that it was his scars that he was most anxious for them to see. The reason must surely have been that they had more to say than any other of his identifying characteristics.
Those scars still possess a matchless eloquence, and we in our day, no less than those first disciples, need to see them and to hear their message.
Symbols Of Victory
I hear them speaking of victory. They are symbols of victory. The wounds which were supposed to defeat and destroy have healed, and only the scars remain as testimony to victory over the forces of evil that inflicted the wounds.
When those holes were made in Jesus' hands and feet and side, it seemed that the forces of evil were in control. Their hour of triumph had come. But the triumph was short-lived. Their victory did not last long, and when Jesus showed his disciples his scars, he was affirming his victory over the forces of evil.
In writing about an interview with the late poet, Robert Frost, a reporter gave a vivid description of his appearance: his white, silky hair that tended to sift down to the left side of his forehead; his pale blue eyes and craggy eyebrows; his thick, slightly jutting lower lip; his over-all rough-hewn granite likeness. Then he noted that Frost had had what he called "an altercation with a surgeon" which had left a slight scar on his right cheek. "But the real scar," the reporter said, "is the scar of living, and no man ever wore it more proudly or with more stunning effect."2
Jesus, too, wore "the scar of living," and in his life, as in the lives of many in our day, that scar witnessed to victories won. But the scars he showed his disciples after his resurrection were the scars of dying. They were the scars that resulted from human efforts to destroy him. But by his resurrection those efforts had been frustrated.
In a dramatic poem, Theodosia Garrison imagines two soldiers talking as they come down the "hill of Calvary." One is thinking only of how long it takes these thieves to die. The other admits to being sorely afraid, but not knowing why. She also sees two women weeping as they come down the hill. One is angry and declares that "men shall rue this deed their hands have done." The other can only say through her tears, "My son! My son! My son!" The poet hears two angels singing, too. One declares, "Death is vanquished," and the other sings, "Love hath conquered all, O heaven and earth rejoice!"3
He was battered and bruised, but he won the victory. Those scars are symbols of victory. So today when it seems that right is on the scaffold and wrong is on the throne, we need not sink into despair. We need, rather, to look again at the Master's scars. They assure us that he has dealt a death blow to the forces of evil. Their doom is sealed. Victory belongs to our God!
Proofs Of Love
Those scars speak also of love. They are proofs of Christ's love. "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends" (John 15:13). If Jesus' disciples had ever had any doubt of his love for them, the sight of those scars should have dispelled that doubt. There was indisputable evidence of his love.
Dr. Harry A. Fifield, who for many years was pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, once told of standing as a boy with his mother waiting for a trolley, when a strange-looking woman walked by. An ugly scar marred one whole side of her face, and he thought she was the ugliest person he had ever seen. To his surprise, his mother spoke to her, and the ugly woman smiled back with a smile that seemed not to fit her face at all. After she passed by, he asked his mother who she was. She told him her name, and then said, "She's a lovely woman, and she used to be very pretty. But one day her house caught fire, and she was horribly burned saving her baby from the flames. That's why her face is so scarred."
Dr. Fifield said that he kept looking back to catch another glimpse of that woman. Although he was not old enough to understand why, she was suddenly lovely to his eyes. Later he realized that her scars were the marks of a love that had paid a tremendous price to manifest itself.
Jesus' scars are like that. They speak more eloquently than words of a love that does not count the cost, but goes all the way to the cross to manifest itself. Charles Wesley exclaimed: "O Love divine, what hast thou done! / The immortal God hath died for me!"4 If in Jesus we see who God is, it is no wonder that John said, "God is love" (1 John 4:8). Jesus' scars tell us that. They are proofs of Divine love.
Tokens Of Sympathy
That means then that they are also tokens of sympathy and understanding. They tell us that we do not have a remote God, unacquainted with the difficult experiences of life. Rather, Christ who is the Word made flesh (John 1:14) was himself "tested by what he suffered," and so is able to sympathize and "to help those who are being tested" now. This, the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews says, should encourage us to "approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need" (Hebrews 2:17-18; 4:14-16).
A few years ago, journalist Cynthia B. Astle had surgery for thyroid cancer. After she had completed radiation therapy and had been released by her physicians, she wrote an article under the title, "We'll Know We Are Christians by Our Scars." She began the article by saying, "Lately my mail has been full of blessed scars." These, she said, were the scars various persons had written to tell her about as they offered her messages of encouragement and hope and promises of prayer. As she had reflected upon her own experience and upon those shared with her by others, she had come to the conclusion that "the reality of God is most often revealed when we show one another the scars that divine love has healed and redeemed." Then she said, "After all, it is by his wounds that we recognize the Risen Christ."5
We can believe more surely in others' understanding and sympathy when we know that they, too, have been wounded. Wounds tend to increase the capacity to understand, to empathize, to sympathize.
James M. Barrie is best known as the creator of Peter Pan, the boy who refused to grow up. Barrie was terribly shocked at the age of six by the death of his brother and the impact this had upon his mother. He later said that that was where his mother got her soft eyes and why other mothers ran to her when they had lost a child. They knew she understood.
When life becomes difficult for us, when pain and heartache become our lot, we need to look at the Master's scars and remember again that he has been through the worst and therefore understands. His scars are tokens of sympathy and understanding.
Claims Of Allegiance
We must not forget though that those scars are also claims of allegiance. They are Christ's authority for demanding our loyalty. He suffered those wounds for us, and he should have to do nothing more to win our allegiance than to show us his scars.
The saintly missionary, Amy Carmichael, who knew far more than her share of suffering, asked: "No wound? No scar?" Are we not supposed to be like the Master whose feet were pierced? "We follow a scarred Captain," she said, so should not we, too, have scars? Then she said: "Lest we forget, Lord, when we meet, / Show us Thy hands and feet."6
How those scars condemn us! Our half-hearted ventures of service, our reluctant offers of loyalty, our cowardly denials make us unworthy even to look upon those scars!
It is said that Saint Francis of Assissi had a vision once of the love of God crucified on a cross that stretched across the whole horizon. When the vision faded, he looked and discovered that the marks of nails were in his own hands, and he bore those marks to the end of his days.
I am not sure whether that is fact or legend, but I do know that when the Apostle Paul wanted to present undeniable evidence of Christ's ownership of his life, he pointed to the scars his body had accumulated during his years of service for Christ and said, "I carry the marks of Jesus branded on my body" (Galatians 6:17).
There is an old legend about Satan appearing to a saint once and declaring, "I am the Christ." But the saint confounded him by asking, "Where are the marks of nails?"
Could it be that when we glibly profess our allegiance to Christ, he replies, "Where are the marks of nails?" Not many of us -- at least in our American world -- are likely to receive physical wounds because of our loyalty to Christ, but his scars should prevent us from seeking an easy discipleship. Those scars are claims of allegiance.
Lord, when I am weary with toiling,
And burdensome seem Thy commands,
If my load should lead to complaining,
Lord, show me Thy hands --
Thy nail-pierced hands, Thy cross-torn hands;
My Saviour, show me Thy hands!
Christ, if ever my footsteps should falter,
And I be prepared for retreat,
If desert or thorn cause lamenting,
Lord, show me Thy feet --
Thy bleeding feet, Thy nail-scarred feet;
My Jesus, show me Thy feet!
Oh, God, dare I show Thee
My hands and my feet?7
____________
1. John Bunyan, The Pilgrim's Progress (London and Glascow: Collins, 1953; Part I originally published in 1678 and Part II in 1684), pp. 84-85.
2. Edward Connery Lathem, editor, Interviews with Robert Frost (New York, Chicago, San Francisco: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1966), p. 185.
3. Theodosia Garrison, "I Heard Two Soldiers Talking," copyright 1971 by Art Masters Studios, Inc., Minneapolis, Minnesota.
4. Charles Wesley, "O Love Divine, What Hast Thou Done," in The United Methodist Hymnal (Nashville: The United Methodist Publishing House, 1989), Number 287.
5. Cynthia B. Astle, "We'll Know We Are Christians By Our Scars," in The United Methodist Reporter, November 7, 1997, p. 2.
6. Cited by Corrie Ten Boom in Tramp for the Lord (New York: Pillar Books edition, 1976; copyright 1974 by Corrie Ten Boom and Jamie Buckingham), p. 118.
7. Source unknown.
Later, in relating this experience to Christian, Faithful says, "He had doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by and bid him forbear."
"Who was that that bid him forbear?" Christian asks, and Faithful answers: "I did not know him at first; but as he went by I perceived the holes in his hands and his side; then I concluded that he was our Lord."1
Those were the marks and proofs of his identity on which Christ himself relied. In helping his friends to recognize him after his resurrection, he did not call attention to the features of his face nor to the color of his eyes or his hair nor to the size or shape of his body. Instead, he said, "Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself." Then "he showed them his hands and his feet" (the Gospel of John says that he showed them his side, too). By those scars they recognized him as their crucified and risen Lord.
Those scars were the marks of identity for which the disciples were looking. Indeed, Thomas said that he would not believe that Jesus was alive until he had seen and felt his scars. No doubt others felt the same. But Jesus did not condemn them for this. In fact, it appears that it was his scars that he was most anxious for them to see. The reason must surely have been that they had more to say than any other of his identifying characteristics.
Those scars still possess a matchless eloquence, and we in our day, no less than those first disciples, need to see them and to hear their message.
Symbols Of Victory
I hear them speaking of victory. They are symbols of victory. The wounds which were supposed to defeat and destroy have healed, and only the scars remain as testimony to victory over the forces of evil that inflicted the wounds.
When those holes were made in Jesus' hands and feet and side, it seemed that the forces of evil were in control. Their hour of triumph had come. But the triumph was short-lived. Their victory did not last long, and when Jesus showed his disciples his scars, he was affirming his victory over the forces of evil.
In writing about an interview with the late poet, Robert Frost, a reporter gave a vivid description of his appearance: his white, silky hair that tended to sift down to the left side of his forehead; his pale blue eyes and craggy eyebrows; his thick, slightly jutting lower lip; his over-all rough-hewn granite likeness. Then he noted that Frost had had what he called "an altercation with a surgeon" which had left a slight scar on his right cheek. "But the real scar," the reporter said, "is the scar of living, and no man ever wore it more proudly or with more stunning effect."2
Jesus, too, wore "the scar of living," and in his life, as in the lives of many in our day, that scar witnessed to victories won. But the scars he showed his disciples after his resurrection were the scars of dying. They were the scars that resulted from human efforts to destroy him. But by his resurrection those efforts had been frustrated.
In a dramatic poem, Theodosia Garrison imagines two soldiers talking as they come down the "hill of Calvary." One is thinking only of how long it takes these thieves to die. The other admits to being sorely afraid, but not knowing why. She also sees two women weeping as they come down the hill. One is angry and declares that "men shall rue this deed their hands have done." The other can only say through her tears, "My son! My son! My son!" The poet hears two angels singing, too. One declares, "Death is vanquished," and the other sings, "Love hath conquered all, O heaven and earth rejoice!"3
He was battered and bruised, but he won the victory. Those scars are symbols of victory. So today when it seems that right is on the scaffold and wrong is on the throne, we need not sink into despair. We need, rather, to look again at the Master's scars. They assure us that he has dealt a death blow to the forces of evil. Their doom is sealed. Victory belongs to our God!
Proofs Of Love
Those scars speak also of love. They are proofs of Christ's love. "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends" (John 15:13). If Jesus' disciples had ever had any doubt of his love for them, the sight of those scars should have dispelled that doubt. There was indisputable evidence of his love.
Dr. Harry A. Fifield, who for many years was pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, once told of standing as a boy with his mother waiting for a trolley, when a strange-looking woman walked by. An ugly scar marred one whole side of her face, and he thought she was the ugliest person he had ever seen. To his surprise, his mother spoke to her, and the ugly woman smiled back with a smile that seemed not to fit her face at all. After she passed by, he asked his mother who she was. She told him her name, and then said, "She's a lovely woman, and she used to be very pretty. But one day her house caught fire, and she was horribly burned saving her baby from the flames. That's why her face is so scarred."
Dr. Fifield said that he kept looking back to catch another glimpse of that woman. Although he was not old enough to understand why, she was suddenly lovely to his eyes. Later he realized that her scars were the marks of a love that had paid a tremendous price to manifest itself.
Jesus' scars are like that. They speak more eloquently than words of a love that does not count the cost, but goes all the way to the cross to manifest itself. Charles Wesley exclaimed: "O Love divine, what hast thou done! / The immortal God hath died for me!"4 If in Jesus we see who God is, it is no wonder that John said, "God is love" (1 John 4:8). Jesus' scars tell us that. They are proofs of Divine love.
Tokens Of Sympathy
That means then that they are also tokens of sympathy and understanding. They tell us that we do not have a remote God, unacquainted with the difficult experiences of life. Rather, Christ who is the Word made flesh (John 1:14) was himself "tested by what he suffered," and so is able to sympathize and "to help those who are being tested" now. This, the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews says, should encourage us to "approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need" (Hebrews 2:17-18; 4:14-16).
A few years ago, journalist Cynthia B. Astle had surgery for thyroid cancer. After she had completed radiation therapy and had been released by her physicians, she wrote an article under the title, "We'll Know We Are Christians by Our Scars." She began the article by saying, "Lately my mail has been full of blessed scars." These, she said, were the scars various persons had written to tell her about as they offered her messages of encouragement and hope and promises of prayer. As she had reflected upon her own experience and upon those shared with her by others, she had come to the conclusion that "the reality of God is most often revealed when we show one another the scars that divine love has healed and redeemed." Then she said, "After all, it is by his wounds that we recognize the Risen Christ."5
We can believe more surely in others' understanding and sympathy when we know that they, too, have been wounded. Wounds tend to increase the capacity to understand, to empathize, to sympathize.
James M. Barrie is best known as the creator of Peter Pan, the boy who refused to grow up. Barrie was terribly shocked at the age of six by the death of his brother and the impact this had upon his mother. He later said that that was where his mother got her soft eyes and why other mothers ran to her when they had lost a child. They knew she understood.
When life becomes difficult for us, when pain and heartache become our lot, we need to look at the Master's scars and remember again that he has been through the worst and therefore understands. His scars are tokens of sympathy and understanding.
Claims Of Allegiance
We must not forget though that those scars are also claims of allegiance. They are Christ's authority for demanding our loyalty. He suffered those wounds for us, and he should have to do nothing more to win our allegiance than to show us his scars.
The saintly missionary, Amy Carmichael, who knew far more than her share of suffering, asked: "No wound? No scar?" Are we not supposed to be like the Master whose feet were pierced? "We follow a scarred Captain," she said, so should not we, too, have scars? Then she said: "Lest we forget, Lord, when we meet, / Show us Thy hands and feet."6
How those scars condemn us! Our half-hearted ventures of service, our reluctant offers of loyalty, our cowardly denials make us unworthy even to look upon those scars!
It is said that Saint Francis of Assissi had a vision once of the love of God crucified on a cross that stretched across the whole horizon. When the vision faded, he looked and discovered that the marks of nails were in his own hands, and he bore those marks to the end of his days.
I am not sure whether that is fact or legend, but I do know that when the Apostle Paul wanted to present undeniable evidence of Christ's ownership of his life, he pointed to the scars his body had accumulated during his years of service for Christ and said, "I carry the marks of Jesus branded on my body" (Galatians 6:17).
There is an old legend about Satan appearing to a saint once and declaring, "I am the Christ." But the saint confounded him by asking, "Where are the marks of nails?"
Could it be that when we glibly profess our allegiance to Christ, he replies, "Where are the marks of nails?" Not many of us -- at least in our American world -- are likely to receive physical wounds because of our loyalty to Christ, but his scars should prevent us from seeking an easy discipleship. Those scars are claims of allegiance.
Lord, when I am weary with toiling,
And burdensome seem Thy commands,
If my load should lead to complaining,
Lord, show me Thy hands --
Thy nail-pierced hands, Thy cross-torn hands;
My Saviour, show me Thy hands!
Christ, if ever my footsteps should falter,
And I be prepared for retreat,
If desert or thorn cause lamenting,
Lord, show me Thy feet --
Thy bleeding feet, Thy nail-scarred feet;
My Jesus, show me Thy feet!
Oh, God, dare I show Thee
My hands and my feet?7
____________
1. John Bunyan, The Pilgrim's Progress (London and Glascow: Collins, 1953; Part I originally published in 1678 and Part II in 1684), pp. 84-85.
2. Edward Connery Lathem, editor, Interviews with Robert Frost (New York, Chicago, San Francisco: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1966), p. 185.
3. Theodosia Garrison, "I Heard Two Soldiers Talking," copyright 1971 by Art Masters Studios, Inc., Minneapolis, Minnesota.
4. Charles Wesley, "O Love Divine, What Hast Thou Done," in The United Methodist Hymnal (Nashville: The United Methodist Publishing House, 1989), Number 287.
5. Cynthia B. Astle, "We'll Know We Are Christians By Our Scars," in The United Methodist Reporter, November 7, 1997, p. 2.
6. Cited by Corrie Ten Boom in Tramp for the Lord (New York: Pillar Books edition, 1976; copyright 1974 by Corrie Ten Boom and Jamie Buckingham), p. 118.
7. Source unknown.
