Remember The Scars

“If I must needs glory, I will glory of the things which concern mine infirmities.” (2Co 11:30 AV)

Paul is speaking of the qualifications for, and evidence of, his Apostleship.  He does not want to glory.  Or, he does not want to list his qualifications and evidence.  In his true humility, he does not want to speak well of himself.  However, he cannot allow his ministry to suffer undue criticism.  Paul would be used by the Holy Spirit to write the majority of the New Testament.  If his apostleship is cast into doubt, so too would the majority of the New Testament.  Therefore even though he didn’t want to defend his office, he had to.  Yet, it is what he chose to use which tells us of his character.  What preceded this statement is a rather extensive list of things that Paul went through in the service of the Savior.  The infirmities are not sins of faults.  They are the virtual laundry list of all that Paul endured for the sake of Christ and His people.  His defense isn’t in his education, pedigree, or lineage.  His defense is in the blood, sweat, and tears that went into his ministry.  In other words, his qualifications were his faith and his heart.  Of these two, there could be no dispute.

I was sitting in my recliner the other day having a nice conversation with my love.  As we were talking about something, my eyes caught some of the scars I have on my hands.  We were talking about our memories of how those scars came to be.  She has a few.  My hands have many.  There are the scars we have from surgeries.  I have three from shoulder surgery.  She has had gallbladder surgery and three c-sections.  Then there are those in other parts of our earthly house.  I have one on my knee.  I cannot recall how that one came to pass.  I have one on my arm which was a scar from surgery to remove a benign cyst.  Then there are many on my hands.  Some I remember.  There is a deep stain on my right thumb from when I jammed a pencil into it.  That had to be fifty or so years ago and it is still there.  There is the one between my thumb and forefinger where a sculpting tool was jammed in and a doctor had to surgically remove it and added a few stitches.  I have a good-sized on the first finger of my left hand from a slip of the knife while skinning a deer.  I have about six or so on the tops of my hands from where I cannot remember.  Working with my hands in a pizzeria and a factory, they could have come from any number of possibilities.  My finger on my right hand was broken while playing volleyball, and it is a little malformed.  All these scars are a history of what I have done.  They are the manifestation of what my life has been all about.  They testify not of what I have accomplished, but rather, the dedication possessed at the time of accomplishment (or failure).  The scars are the evidence that supports the claim.  Scars are an indication of commitment, and not necessarily accomplishment.

This is Paul’s point.  We can look at all that we have done, or failed to do, and become discouraged.  We can bring into question the value of our service or what others may have thought of it.  But no one can remove the scars.  These pieces of evidence are indisputable proof of someone who has tried as hard as he could.  Scars may be an indication of success.  Perhaps not.  But that is lasting proof of intensity and intent.  A skier with a broken leg will never be criticized for lack of commitment.  A boxer with two black eyes may be criticized for failing to duck and dodge.  But his heart is never in doubt.  So, when the devil tries to tell you your life doesn’t amount to much, time to do an examination.  It is time to make a list of all those things God has brought you through and remember God did accomplish something by all those scars.  Perhaps it is discernable.  Maybe it is not.  But the scars remain.  They are still there.  They are a reminder our lives meant something to someone, but especially to God.  Never let the Devil convince you your life had no point.  There are scars on the heart, in the mind, and maybe on the body that tells a different story.  That record can never be undone no matter how much Satan wants to undo it.