Jesus shows His scars.
When He returns to the disciples He shows them as proof of His love for them. He doesn’t hide them. He doesn’t cover them in concealer.
Are we able to do that?
Are we able to show off the nose that sticks out of our face?
Or the thighs that jiggle.
Or the burns on our hands.
Or the empty space where a leg once stood.
Or the hot red x’s on our chests, our breasts gone forever?
Or the uterus that won’t work or the heart that barely pumps?
Or the lungs that quake with every breath?
Can we show these things now knowing they’re a part of this story whether we like that they’ve been written or not?
Can we accept that there’s no pencil to erase these wrongs, and maybe even accept that they’re not “wrongs” in the Father’s hands?
That they’re the bridge between my soul and yours?
That they’re dot, dot, dotting to a beautiful “right” that sits just left of perception.
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