Even Jesus Bears Scars

When I attended a youth camp earlier this year, I saw the man standing next to me in worship had no fingers. As the lights flashed to the praise music, I saw he had no ears, nose, or lips. I am an army child - I know the face of combat. I knew not if that was the case, but regardless, I was familiar with the demons he had battled in the fire and every day since. As worship went on, I knew what God was telling me to do. Yet i battled until the very last song. As he turned to leave, I tapped his shoulder. And spoke as loud as i dared over the fading music to not attract others attention. "I don't know all the sacrifices you've made, or who you made them for, but thank you." With tears in his eyes, he explained he had been a fireman, that he had gotten trapped in a building, and that he was beyond grateful for my thanks. He said that I had a beautiful perspective of the world. I told him it was God's eyes. Last night I went to Chuck E Cheese for the first time in probably 8 years. We were attending one of my dad's Army buddy's daughter's 5th birthday. As my 7 year old brother and I went up to the counter to turn in his tickets, I noticed the woman to our right, surrounded by her husband and three young children, had a scar across her face. It was an attack wound, of that I have no doubt. It slashed from her forehead, across her eye, and down her right cheek. I could feel her insecurity - see it in what she wore and how she never met many eyes - even as she patiently urged her children to find the best toy. Again, I knew what I had to say, again I battled for the 3 minutes it took her children to pick out their prizes. When she turned, I tapped her shoulder. Her surprised eyes met mine. I leaned into her shoulder, whispering "Even Jesus bears His Scars."

Stepping back, my eyes still holding her glossy ones, she whispered "Thank you." With my Love and His~ Arial Alexis LionessofGod.