Scars. We all have them. Some are publicly seen, and some are hidden deep within. Whether public or private, each scar has a story to tell. Behind each scar lies a wound, a deep wound, that likely encompassed lots of pain, lots of tears, and maybe even heartache.
I have many scars; however, I have one particular scar that seems to be more publicly seen and seems to still radiate pain from time to time. This scar has a name. A name that causes unease. A name that in itself causes pain. It's name is
divorce. Divorce... Secularly, this word has almost lost its sting. It's seen as the always available plan B. Don't like the person that you married? "Fall out of love"? There's always a plan B. And it's name is divorce. I'm not here to rant over the secular dilution of the sanctity of marriage and approval of divorce, and, as one who put pen to paper on the pile of legal jargon denoting a "dissolution of marriage," it would seem super-hypocritical at this point. So, that is not my end. While, secularly, the word divorce has lost its sting, ironically, in the church, the "D word" is never-spoken. Time and time again, the church silences those whose stories involve divorce because its uncomfortable. When the word divorce even comes up in conversation, so many church people get quiet, awkward, and uncomfortable. If we took the time to listen to the story behind the scar, maybe, just maybe, we would see that so much more lies behind that scar. When the "D word" comes up, maybe the church shouldn't cower, chastise, and emotionally stone those involved, but maybe we should step-in and fight for the sanctity of marriage alongside the hurting. Instead of running away from discussions revolving around tough issues like divorce, we should face them head on with the Word of God, pray alongside those whose lives have been wrecked by the devastation of divorce, and seek to love and walk alongside the broken-hearts left behind to heal. What kind of doctor would leave someone with a gaping wound alone on the operating table to heal on his own just because the doctor did not agree with the act that caused the wound in the first place. While this has become something that I am deeply passionate about, this is also not my end in writing this blog.
My end is, however, to address the scar. The deep-rooted, life-changing scar left behind by the gaping wound of divorce. One of the hardest parts about facing this wound is that you often feel alone. You often feel as if you have a massive scar on your arm just underneath your clothes. While this scar may not be apparent to everyone that you come into contact with, with just a bit of conversation, the heat seems to be turned up, and you pull up your sleeves only to, sometimes accidentally, sometimes intentionally, expose the dreaded scar. When the scar is exposed, one of two things will happen, those around you will either cower in fear and begin to tip-toe around the scar due to fear of re-opening the wound, or they will immediately begin to try to doctor on and treat the scar and to try to "fix" it to where it cannot be seen so readily.
Until my recent trip to Mexico, I was attempting to "fix" my scar. I saw it as a scarlet reminder of past mistakes, past sins, and the dreaded dark days of depression and vast emptiness that came before my life in Christ. I would wear my long-sleeve shirts to cover the scar, and, as often as possible, I would keep it covered. However, from time to time, I'd, sometimes willingly, sometimes unintentionally, roll up my sleeves and the awkwardness would set in-- especially in church circles. In a conversation with some friends just a few weeks ago, the topic of my divorce randomly creeped up and what was a great conversation immediately became placid, dull, and especially awkward. It shouldn't be this way. I don't want it to be this way... anyway, my prayer leading into this trip was for God to open my eyes to all that I should see and learn from on this journey. When I prayed this prayer, I pictured precious little Hispanic children running and playing, and I saw myself working alongside those in need. I expected to learn about my privilege as an American and how blessed I am to live in such a beautiful well-endowed country. I expected to be humbled by those that were so content with so much less that what I think I "need" on a day-to-day basis. And all of these things happened. Yes, I learned so much from this precious group of people. But what I didn't expect.. what I never saw coming, was one of the most life-transforming truths I've ever encountered. God shook me to my very core. He took all that I thought I had learned over the past few years, turned it upside-down, and exposed me to His truths.
On our first full day in beautiful Matamoros, Sunday, we sat down before church to have a Bible study with our leader, Blake. Blake explained that the message that God laid on his heart for this trip was related to abiding in Christ. We began to walk through John 15. We discussed what it truly means to abide in Christ, to be connected to Him as our vine, and to be
pruned by Him. As many times as I have heard these verses, and as many sermons as I have heard expositing these verses, I'm not sure that the word
prunes has ever stood out to me the way that it did in that moment.
Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. - John 15:2 ESV (emphasis mine)
When we read and discussed these verses and really dove into the word
prunes, we talked about how when a branch is pruned, it is often a painful process, and it will leave a
scar. This painful pruning process is not about punishment, but about refining us to bear more fruit and become more like Christ. It is for His glory and for our good. As we discussed pruning, we began sharing stories of how we had seen Christ prune us so that we might bear more fruit. As I listened to story after story, one word stuck with me...
scar. This one word struck me... and in relation to pruning. I felt compelled to share my story, and the redemption that occurred following the wound. And this is where the battle began to rage inside of me.
Share your story.
But, Lord, I don't know these people. What will they think? It's a huge mistake.
It's covered in my blood. My grace is sufficient.
But, Lord, it will get awkward and weird, just like every time before.
Share your story.
But, it will open the scar. It will show the wound.
Scars should not serve as reminders of past mistakes. They serve to show wounds that have been healed through Christ alone. Use your story to show my power and my glory through your healing.
And I did. I shared-- my story-- and what He was teaching me in that moment. And I found love. I found comfort. I found healing.
This was only the beginning of the healing that He had in store for me over the course of this trip.
Monday night, the Fourth of July, I sat outside feeling the Mexican breeze, listening to the kids' excitement over our fiesta and
DOS pinatas!, and talking to the group of people that I was blessed to spend the time serving alongside. As we sat in the breeze, talking about life... God spoke over me. Last year, on the Fourth of July, God led me to Oxford in a life-transforming move. Over this year, He has brought me a solid group of friends, a beautiful church family, a precious mentor, and so many other blessings along the way. And, as I sat, a solid year later, in an entirely different country, surrounded by new friends, discussing God's providence and redemption... I was floored and overcome with gratitude and praise. I left the table to watch the children knock out some pinatas. When I returned to the table, I caught the end of one of my new friend's life story. He was going along in his story, when I heard
that word-- divorce. I was shocked. He has a beautiful wife, three beautiful children, and one on the way. There was no way that this man had ever gone through anything as ugly as divorce, and if he had, how in the world could his life be as beautiful as it was now?! Then, I caught myself... I was stereotyping. I was getting awkward. I was doing the very thing that I was so upset about others doing to me. Father, forgive me. So, I kindly asked him to back up and share his story if he didn't mind. He shared his story from the beginning, and it shook me. Then, another person in our group shared his story that also included divorce. He is now happily married with a child on the way as well! Wow... what are the odds? God put this team together. As I listened to their stories, what struck me the most was not so much that others had experienced the same thing as I had as much as it was that God had healed their hearts. He had taken broken hearts, and mended them. He had redeemed. In that moment, God saturated my heart. That was it. That was what He was teaching me about my scars. When I share my scars, when I am open and honest about my wounds and the ways that Christ worked and is working in me and through me to heal those wounds, that is when the healing process truly begins. While the surface healing has taken place, and it is far from a gaping wound, the scar has formed, and God is working in me to be comfortable is bearing that scar for His glory alone.
So, brothers and sisters, bear your scars, roll up your sleeves, share your wounds, tell your story, but most of all, tell of God's redemption and be living proof that all things work together for His glory. I believe that Louie Giglio said it best when he said, "Why didn't God take away the scars? Because it was the most powerful story. Jesus didn't even cover up His scars. They were healed wounds. Our scars are a witness to the world. They are a part of our story. Healed wounds that are symbols that God has restored us." This is why we bear our scars-- to share His story of redemption and restoration in our lives!
Thank you all for your prayers on my Mexican adventure, they were felt, and they were answered. May God continue to move in a mighty way on U.S. soil in the same ways that I felt him move in Mexico.
For His Glory Alone,
Kayla
