Sanding and Scars

It’s early June in Northeast Ohio, and for me, that means garage sale season is in full swing! Every weekend, I’m out treasure hunting, loading my van with cast-offs, misfits and items that others have given up for dead. Last weekend I scored an antique cabinet for $12 and yesterday, I started it’s transformation.

Like most things I bring home, it has it’s share of dings and scratches. I choose to begin with sanding the top. I start with a heavy grit that almost tears at the top layer, stripping away layers of dirt and grime. Eventually, I work my way down to a finer paper, which produces a smooth finish. Even with modern tools, sanding is a long, slow process. It is a gradual grinding away of rough places, until what rises to the top is the natural beauty that had been there all along. It’s a refining that parallels life in so many ways.

God often allows our lives to rub up against rough, painful circumstances to bring out our true character. But He never stops halfway through the job, where we look like an absolute mess. He continues to refine us, working more gently, the deeper He goes. His attention to detail is meticulous, calling forth a beauty in us that will reflect His handiwork.

But there are some scars that are too deep to be sanded out. As I worked on my cabinet, I noticed a gouge in the top which would not be removed, no matter how much I sanded. “Well, that is just a part of her story”, I told myself. I refuse to cover it, or close it up with wood filler (though I could). I believe things are more beautiful when their scars show through. They are deeper, richer, and have a story to tell that is often worth hearing. As I worked, a scene from John chapter 20 came to mind:

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord…

Now Thomas (also known as Didymus ), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Thomas said to Him, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:19-20, 24-28)

Jesus had just risen from the dead. He came to His disciples fully alive and whole. Yet he chose to keep His scars. He could have covered them over with new flesh. He could have eliminated even the hint of a wound. He had just conquered death and hell and every force of evil. He certainly could have erased His scars. But He kept them. Not only that, but He identified Himself to His friends by showing them His scars. When He met Thomas, who was struggling to make sense of all that had happened, He invited Thomas to touch them. When Thomas pressed his finger into the scars of Jesus, His faith was resurrected.

If it were up to us, most of us would erase, hide or cover up our scars, be they physical, mental or emotional. We don’t want people to see them. We are ashamed or embarrassed. But maybe our scars are the very thing that God wants to use to resurrect the faith of someone else. Maybe our scars should be seen and celebrated because their stories tell of a God who has the power to bring life out of death, and beauty out of brokenness. Maybe allowing someone else to press into our scars, can offer them hope and healing from their own doubts and failures.

Sanding and scars. They are both a part of my life as a furniture artist, and as a Christ follower. As I grow, I pray that God will continue to sand away the rough edges of my life. I want Him to remove all the grime in me that doesn’t accurately reflect His beauty. At the same time, I thank Him for the scars. For the deep hurts in my heart, which, though they have been healed, will never be erased. I pray that I will invite people into those places in order to hold out the hope of the One who purchased my healing with His wounds. I want to invite others to experience the Savior who came, who was pierced for my transgressions, who was crushed for my iniquities, whose punishment brought me peace, and who healed me with His ever visible wounds. (See Isaiah 53:5)

i think she turned out beautiful, even with all her scars!