Scars (John 20:19-31)

This text shows us that scars are beautiful. Scars are proof of victory and healing. And, aw we see in Jesus, scars are evidence of God’s love for us.

In today’s Gospel, John narrates the account of the resurrected Jesus first appearance to the disciples. The disciples surely think they are seeing a ghost. This is probably why Jesus’ first words are “Peace be with you.” However, the disciples were not put at ease until Jesus showed them his scars. The scars proved that this man who was standing before them was their Lord, risen from the dead. Earlier in John’s Gospel, Jesus had predicted his resurrection, and Mary Magdalene had informed the disciples of Jesus’ resurrection; yet the disciples had to see the scars in order to believe.

I know a thing or two about scars. One day, when I was three years old, I stood up on a picnic bench to reached out for a bottle of soda; only to lose my balance and fall between the bench and the table. On my way down to the ground my mouth nailed the corner of the table, causing my front bottom tooth to push into my lip.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, a few months later it happened again. This time it was a Sunday morning and I was walking down the aisle at church. I tripped over my feet and fell face first right into a church pew. Bam! My face nailed the pew and the same tooth went through the same spot in my lip once again. This spot on my lip filled with scar tissue. Ever since then I have carried this lumpy scar on my lip.

The scar didn’t bother me until I was in elementary school. That’s the point when other kids started to notice it, and make fun of me because of it. By high school the teasing had affected me so much that I convinced my parents to let me have surgery to remove some of the scar tissue. But even after surgery I still felt disfigured and self-conscious. If anyone had told me then that scars are beautiful things, I would have told them they were crazy.
Our society equates beauty with perfection. Makeup commercials use words like “flawless” when describing the benefit of using their products. Beauty is so idealized that magazine covers featuring already-beautiful celebrities are usually airbrushed in order to cover up any minor blemishes they may have. We are facing intense pressure to cover up our blemishes in order to fit into this fabricated idyllic society.

The blemishes or scars on our skin are not the only things that we feel compelled to cover up. Society pressures us to have a perfect job, a perfect car, a perfect house and a perfect family. Society guides us to see the world into two categories: perfection and failure. Even though we all live in the grey area in between, we don’t want anyone else to know that we are not perfect. We don’t want our neighbors talking about Johnny’s trouble in school, Ed’s unemployment, or Suzie’s failure as a parent as evidenced by her lack of involvement in the PTA. We put on a big smile and apply enough makeup to our life and family that we cover up scars. When we live like this we are not accepting ourselves; nor are we allowing healing to take place.

If the disciples were expecting Jesus to come back from the dead, they likely would have expected him to come back to life in a perfect body. After all, the scars were ugly reminders of Jesus’ suffering and death – events the disciples saw as evidence of the failure of Jesus’ ministry. The scars were a painful reminder of the hatred and opposition Jesus encountered as a result of his ministry. In that culture, being nailed to a cross along with thieves, rebels and murderers was the most shameful way to die. The world had rejected Jesus, and yet here he stood, proudly displaying his scars.

Thomas recognized Jesus as Lord and God upon being invited to touch Jesus’ wounds. We too are invited to touch the wounds of Christ by acknowledging the pain and suffering in our life. Jesus’ scars are beautiful because they are evidence of God’s forgiveness. We cannot embrace God’s forgiveness until we admit that we have something in our life that needs to be forgiven.

The Christian Church is the institution that bears the scars of the crucified Lord. Those of us in the church have the responsibility to engage life in a deeper and more honest level. The scars of pain, conflict and imperfection are not blemishes to be covered up; rather, they are evidence of the power of Jesus’ healing and presence in our lives. When we acknowledge our struggles, we open the door for others to care for us. You may be surprised to find that not only will people come to your aid, but they may also open up about their own struggles and invite you (with the help of Jesus) to help them heal.

My prayer is that the church will be a place where we can come and be accepted without makeup. Perhaps all churches should have a banner over the entrance that reads, “No perfect people allowed.”

Amen.

Easter Day (John 20:1-18)

This year I feel a special connection to this text. And the best way I can explain this connection is to recount the words that were spoken to me a few days ago. I had stumbled into work one morning, weary from a sleepless night full of feedings and diaper changes; giant circles under my eyes, hair greasy and plastered on one side, perhaps wearing the same clothes from the previous day; when a coworker walked into the office, saw me, and said, “Wow, you kind of look like you’ve been raised from the dead.”

I don’t think the individual who made the comment meant it as an insult (although, he certainly didn’t mean it as a compliment!); but rather it was an honest observation. My life had been transformed, and I bore the unmistakable physical and emotional proof right on my face.

Today’s Easter text talks about a transformative event: the resurrection of Jesus Christ – an event that changed the lives of the disciples forever. Today’s scripture shows us that such events may terrify us initially, but will end up leading on a rewarding and blessing-filled journey.

As with many transformative events, this one began in a spirit of panic and fear. No matter how much Jesus tried to warn Mary and the disciples about his impending death, the Easter events caught them completely off guard. Jesus had tried and tried to prepare them for his death and resurrection, but in the end they just had to experience the events themselves.

Nine months ago I began a process of preparation. I picked up every pregnancy and parenting book I could find. I attended labor and delivery class with my wife. Through research and conversation I came up with a set of expectations about what it would be like to witness the birth of my son; a set of expectations about what it would be like to be a father. And on March 31 I watched as all my preparation and expectations went up in smoke. I realized that I could not have been truly prepared for the transformative event; I simply had to experience it.

Now, when we go through a transformative event, especially one that begins with panic and fear; we might not make the best decisions. Like, hypothetically, when your wife wakes you up at 1 in the morning and says “I think this is it” – to which you reply, “Alright, well I’m going to go back to bed.” In hindsight that probably wasn’t the best decision. Or when you are trying to time the contractions but you are so excited and panicked that you can’t keep track of how many time the second hand goes past 12.

I should just mention here that we got to the hospital in time and everything went smoothly. It just started off a little rocky. And I’ve already said I’m sorry!

But there’s precedence for being discombobulated during transformative events. Take Mary. She is so distraught that she mistakes Jesus for a gardener. Here he is, the very man whom she is frantically looking for, and she doesn’t recognize him. We may think we would have reacted more reasonably had we been in her shoes; but we probably would have made the same mistake. Jesus’ missing body was such a disruptive event that no one could think straight.

And now we get to the best part of the story. Jesus says “Do not hold on to me.” Now, I don’t think Jesus is saying literally, “don’t touch me.” But rather he means it in a more abstract way. As in “Forget what you thought you knew about me.” You know what Mary is thinking here, right? She’s thinking, “Oh, he’s back. Now things can go back to normal. We can go back to the way things were.” But, of course, after an event like that you can never go back to the way things were.

Jesus says “Do not hold on to me; for I have not yet ascended to the father.” Mary would prefer to have Jesus join her where she is at; but instead, Jesus insists on taking her to a new place. Jesus has changed; he’s been to hell and back; he’s defeated death; he has opened the door of salvation to all people. And now he is going to the father and he is taking us with him.

It’s hard for me to imagine my 12-day old son looking at me and saying “Don’t hold on to me.” And yet that is precisely what I have to do. I may want to freeze time and keep him as this little baby, but I can’t. I can cherish each day, but I can’t cling onto what he is now; I can’t cling onto our lives with white knuckles, dreading what the future may have in store. He is already leading us on a new journey. We can’t go back to the way things were and we can’t freeze time. We can only rely on the fact that Jesus leads us to places of hope when our lives have been transformed.

My purpose in sharing the story of my son’s birth was not to equate it to Jesus’ resurrection. But rather it was to show how Jesus’ resurrection echoes in events of our lives. Jesus shows us that no matter how terrifying an event may be, there is always hope on the other side.

Amen.