If you look really closely, you’ll see thousands of scars all over. Some are nearly microscopic, while others are much larger. Each one of these scars tells a story. None of them are life threatening by themselves. But when you put them all together, their impact adds up significantly.
There’s a method of torture called death by a thousand cuts. The idea is that no single cut will do a lot of damage. The cuts each sting and some downright hurt. Each one brings with it a little bit of blood and some pain. But none of them are intended to kill you. This is the torture part. Over time the pain intensifies as the cuts mount up. One on top of the other until the loss is too much. The body gives up. Death by a thousand cuts.
Ok this is turning kind of dark, I understand that. Keep going and hopefully you get where I’m headed. These scars aren’t physical. They’re not cuts on my arms and such. They are more significant than that and way easier to hide. They’re cuts on the heart, soul, and mind. They’re emotional cuts, relational cuts, and even some spiritual cuts. Each one of these cuts is a part of who I am. And if you’re honest with yourself, they’re part of who you are as well.
I took time recently to look through these scars. Some of them are far more prominent than others. Take for instance the one that seems to be getting my attention a lot more lately. This one kind of surfaced over the past few months and I’m not really sure the trigger. Although I do have some guesses.
This scar is one that started to form about 25 years ago when my grandma died suddenly, and then honestly was opened back up again just a couple years back when my remaining grandparents died within 18 months of each other. If you know me, you’ll know that I’m not a super emotional kind of guy. I don’t wear my feelings for the world to see. Although sometimes they do sneak out, much to my dislike.
As I looked at this scar, I saw all the things that made it so prominent. The scar took me back to sneaking cookies from my grandma’s cookie jar and enjoying swimming days in their pool. It reminded me of delicious authentic German dishes cooked to perfection. I couldn’t help but see the road passing by on my weekly trips through the summer with my grandpa in his 18 wheeler.
Soon another scar came into sight. This one was a reminder of a good friend. We were so alike and so different at the same time. We don’t talk anymore. Something pretty significant divided us. It was a cut as you can imagine. I remember the times he’d call on his road trips. Or the random texts that were probably less than appropriate but we understood each other. I remember the fire pit talks and beverages shared. But the scar came when he made a choice to walk away to pursue something that was detrimental to his family. It hurt. It left a mark to say the least. It’s a scar that tells a story.
Another scar that’s still pretty fresh came in a totally different way. A very good friend who I was very close to for several years moved away. She and her family made some life changes. I’m super happy for them, but the move was hard on me. And while we still chat from time to time, there’s a scar there. There is a mark left, a tiny cut that, honestly, is still healing. It’s a cut that reminds me they’re no longer here. A tiny cut with a big story.
Every scar tells a story.
I could go on but the point here isn’t about going through each scar. The point is that every scar tells a story. The point is that every relationship and every conversation will leave a mark. We just have to know how to handle the cuts when they come.
A friend recently told me that it’s obvious that I have really thick skin. While that’s probably true now, it wasn’t always that way! I’ve been called some pretty less than stellar things in my life. I’ve been promised things by friends only to have them make choices that benefited them and completely dismissed the friendship we shared. I’ve been let down by people I looked up to. I’ve been cut more times than I can count.
There was a time when these cuts would nearly stop me in my tracks. I’d focus on the pain and the hurt. Like a little kid who scraped their knee thinking it was the end of the world, I’d look at the tiny relational cuts and freak out. I would be like Chicken Little, thinking the sky was falling. But now these cuts heal pretty quickly. That doesn’t mean they don’t hurt. It doesn’t mean they don’t have an impact or leave a lasting mark. It just means that I’ve learned some techniques to let them heal a little quicker.
I share this so that you understand while I’m not super emotional – I am still human. I share this so you understand the cuts you see in your life, no matter how deep, no matter how painful in the moment…they don’t have to be your world. They’ll scar over – eventually. They’ll close up and they’ll heal. You won’t forget the relationship or the conversations. That’s the point of the scar. It’s there to remind you. It’s there to show you that you survived.
I’m surrounded by people for whom I care deeply. Some are family and others are close friends. But honestly some are people I only know nominally. Each one has the ability to leave a mark on my life the same way you have people who can make a mark on yours.
I don’t want you to suffer a death by a thousand scars. During holiday seasons it’s a common thing to remember the people and relationships who aren’t here anymore. It’s a very normal thing to feel darkness and hurt this time of year. Take time to read your scars. Let them tell you their story. Give thanks for the relationship that existed while it did. Ask what you need to learn from that scar. Then look at the rest of the people and relationships in your life that God added to help make that cut into a scar.
Scars are not bad things because every scar tells a story.
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