THE WOUNDS THAT HEAL
Isaiah, I think, had the heart of a poet. The book of his name's sake carries much beautiful imagery and probably most well known is his foretelling of the suffering of our Savior.
"and by His wounds, we are healed" Isaiah 53: 5 (last phrase)
If I get past the familiarity of these words, they hit me with profound clarity.
I once took a spectacular tumble from a bicycle and managed to slide down a good bit of asphalt. Most of you have too, I imagine, and it doesn't take much to recall the memory. What I remember the most is my dad picking out the bits of the road that had left themselves in my leg and elbow and crying as he did so. The pain was acute, but it eventually subsided and I was left with a scar for neighborhood bragging rights.
I don't meant to trivialize the pain of Christ, by no means, but you or I do not have a lot of experience with having our flesh ripped from our backs repeatedly from bullying Romans. If anything, this concept is so foreign that we read verses like the one above and are scarcely moved by the depth of pain hidden within the words.
Jesus stood up to our bully and took a (literally) hell of a beating for it. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't poetic. It was graphic and ugly and messy and painful, but it was necessary.
Why? because our lives can be graphic and ugly and messy and painful.
And if I am really honest, I think because, I like Thomas, need to be reminded of His wounds in order to embrace the healing of my own.
An even stranger notion is that the scars you or I bear can be the instruments in which Jesus brings healing to someone else.
Isaiah, I think, had the heart of a poet. The book of his name's sake carries much beautiful imagery and probably most well known is his foretelling of the suffering of our Savior.
"and by His wounds, we are healed" Isaiah 53: 5 (last phrase)
If I get past the familiarity of these words, they hit me with profound clarity.
I once took a spectacular tumble from a bicycle and managed to slide down a good bit of asphalt. Most of you have too, I imagine, and it doesn't take much to recall the memory. What I remember the most is my dad picking out the bits of the road that had left themselves in my leg and elbow and crying as he did so. The pain was acute, but it eventually subsided and I was left with a scar for neighborhood bragging rights.
I don't meant to trivialize the pain of Christ, by no means, but you or I do not have a lot of experience with having our flesh ripped from our backs repeatedly from bullying Romans. If anything, this concept is so foreign that we read verses like the one above and are scarcely moved by the depth of pain hidden within the words.
Jesus stood up to our bully and took a (literally) hell of a beating for it. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't poetic. It was graphic and ugly and messy and painful, but it was necessary.
Why? because our lives can be graphic and ugly and messy and painful.
And if I am really honest, I think because, I like Thomas, need to be reminded of His wounds in order to embrace the healing of my own.
An even stranger notion is that the scars you or I bear can be the instruments in which Jesus brings healing to someone else.
posted by 2 K's are Better Than 1 at 5:51 PM
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