Scars of Blessing
John 20:19-31
A scar is a mark of fibrous tissue left on the skin after a wound has healed. They are a natural part of the healing process. Scars can be a badge of honor, or a reminder of past pain that summons it to the present. The wound determines the shape of the scar. So each scar is unique to its wound and yet similar. Some scars are visible, and come with a cool story. While others are invisible and hard to explain.
Scars are also a very intimate part of us because our scars reveal that trauma has occurred. That’s also what makes scars a bonding point. When you meet someone with your similar scars you connect over your shared trauma. I’ve recently come to hear this identified as trauma-bonding. Those who have suffered 3rd degree burns can notice the scars of others with 3rd degree burns. They share the remembered pain.
Scars make their mark physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Scars doesn’t mean that the wound didn’t happen. Scars don’t mean that the wound didn’t hurt. And, scars don’t mean they wont hurt again if poked and prodded. The scar means that healing is possible.
On July 31, 2019, I had skin cancer removed from my right arm. I have a 2.5 in. scar right where the chalice is in my tattoo. My surgeon did a great job and we had a serious conversation about making sure she got all the cancer out while maintaining the integrity of the artwork. But even though is scar is longer and more visible, it’s not the scar that reveals the closest I came to death. That scary one is on the lower palm of my left hand.
When I was six years old, I was out riding maybe the best toy of the early 80s—and possibly the best named toy, next to Transformers™ of course—the Big Wheel™. Aptly named because it had a BIG wheel in the front with peddles, a bucket seat, two smaller wheels on the back, and mine had a hand break on the right back wheel. And I know what you’re thinking, but NO it was not a tricycle. Tricycles were for little kids that made you sit up high so adults could see you. On a Big Wheel you sat low to the ground for greater speed and aerodynamics, and so that cars could NOT see you when you were racing around the parking lot of your apartment complex.
This particular complex was set up in a square: Office building in the south, and apartments set around the “green space” in the middle. There were two stories, some facing out toward parking while the other half were facing in toward the pool, playground, other apartments on the other side. Our side only had one row of parking and a chainlink fence separating us from the next property of businesses. At the northeast corner were the first set of dumpsters.
After breakfast one morning I set out on the open pavement—just me and my Big Wheel! I point out the hand break, because it was a special feature. Typically you’d have to peddle real fast then lock the peddles with as much force as you could muster, turn the wheel to skid or slide. But with the hand break you could spin out.
This particular day, as I was drifting around the parking lot near the dumpster where all the loose and broken asphalt was. As a result, I spun out and almost rolled my Big Wheel, but I stuck my hand out to prevent the crash. Unfortunately, asphalt is harder than skin. So I bailed on my trusty friend, Big Wheel, and ran to our apartment.
My hand was scratched up and bleeding. My mom cleaned off my hand and saw I had a deep cut. She took me to the doctor my hand was cleaned, bandaged, and we were sent on our way. I don’t remember getting stitches at that time, but that wasn’t the traumatizing part, so it’s possible I’ve forgotten—it has been almost 40 yrs.
We come home, had lunch, and watched some TV. But since I was feeling better, I headed out to play again with my freshly bandaged hand. I don’t remember how it happened, but while I was out, I hit my hand on something and within seconds my gauze-wrapped hand was covered in blood. I ran home, I remember my mom meeting me at the front door. I never made it inside, though, because she rushed me to the hospital.
My next memory is of lying on a table with my mom stretched across me, holding me down while the doctor dug around in my hand with forceps. He pulled out a sliver of broken beer bottle that had lodged near my Radial Artery. Today I still bear the scar that testifies to how close I came to bleeding to death. I’m grateful for my mom’s quick action and the doctor’s steady hands.
Tonight I have the privilege to declare this good news over us: When the disciples where filled with fear, Jesus appeared in their midst scarred and offers resurrection blessings. Beloved, we can trust Jesus with our wounds, because Jesus has scars.
In our gospel reading tonight, we find the disciples locked away, possibly back in the upper room. Despite what they’ve heard, and what some have seen, they are locked away in darkness and fear, possibly in the same room where the horrible events of the past few days began. In that same room where they had recently eaten the Passover meal with Jesus, where he had washed their feet, where he had given them his farewell speech (Jn 13-17).
Oh, to be a fly on the wall as they were huddled together! Mary Magdalene recounting her story of Jesus calling her by name. I wonder if they asked what we often ask, “Why did he tell you not to cling to him?”John sitting next to Mary the mother of Jesus recounting every detail of his morning run to the tomb. The other women who went to the tomb chiming in and finishing sentences, followed by extended periods of silence. They flinch at every sound because they are the prime suspects of those who want to find the missing body of Jesus the Nazarene. Some pace while others weep, and our text says, “Jesus came and stood among them.”
Just as Jesus stood among them at his baptism, he stands among them now alive. Just as Jesus was among two thieves on the cross, he stands among them now alive. And he offers them them the Blessing of Presence.
Seconds ago Jesus was not in their midst… Now he is among them in their midst… The very one who was dead three days ago. Some in that very room could have been the ones who pulled the nails from his hands and feet to remove him from the cross. Some in that room could have been the very ones who quickly prepared his body for burial. And now Jesus blesses those fearful disciples with his presence. It’s really him, and he proves it by showing them his scars.
Notice that the disciples don’t demand any proof, but Jesus offers them proof anyway… “he showed them his hands and his side.” Jesus shows them his scars as proof of his presence. And his presence produces joy. They move from fear to joy in his presence.
The lamb who was slain has begun his reign. The one the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. They thought he was dead, but he’s alive. And not just alive… He has a new body, one that’s the same but different. A new body that can be touched. A new body that breathes and eats. But one that can also vanish from their sight, and can’t be held by locked doors. And one that conquered death, hell, and the grave. But that also still bears the scars.
He doesn’t just stand there, though; he also breathes on them, offering them the Holy Spirit.
Christ’ presence is why our service is divided into the two parts that it is: the Word and the Table. Because Christ has promised to be unequivocally present with his people in Word and Table. Here at Advocate, not only have we three pastors taken vows to rightly divide Scripture and duly administer the sacraments, but we genuinely believe it’s true that Christ is present with us in a special way in Scripture and the Breaking of Bread.
But we know it’s not the same presence as what the disciples experienced. So, how are we invited to feast of the presence of the Lord?
Tonight Pastor Emily will hold up the elements after she’s consecrated them and say, “The Gifts of God for the People of God. Take them in remembrance that Christ died for you, and feed on him in your hearts by faith with thanksgiving.”
Belief in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist does not imply a claim to know how Christ is present in the eucharistic elements, but simply that he has promised to be present in the elements. If you want to parse the participles of the mystery our resident liturgical theologian, Pastor Aaron, will defiantly be happy to chat with you about that over tacos tonight.
Notice also that when Jesus appears, standing in the midst of his disciples, what his very first words were.
Judgement? Condemnation? Disapproval? No. He offers them the Blessing of Peace. In fact, three times in our 13 verses Jesus says, “Peace be with you.” Remember, this is so much more than pleasantries, or a friendly greeting. Peace is the Greek word εἰρήνη (i-ray’-nay), which means harmony, wholeness, completeness, prosperity, welfare, and tranquility. That is so much more than, “Hello!”
With his word, “Peace,” the darkness, disruption, and devastation were calmed inside them like the sea of Galilee. John only uses εἰρήνη four times in his gospel. The first time it appears is during the last supper, in the farewell discourse, John 16:33: I have said this—“this” meaning his command to love, the promise of the Holy Spirit, abiding in his word, his promise to turn sorrow into Joy—to you so that in me you may have peace. In the world you face persecution, but take courage: I have conquered the world!” I don't have time to preach a second sermon, but notice that Jesus is using a verb meaning a completed action for what hasn’t happened in the story yet: Take courage I have overcome the world.
Many of you have had sorrow thrust upon you in situations out of your control. You know how such events hijack your life and your sense of self and well-being. And Jesus knows that too. Jesus has those scars, and he blesses us with a peace that can only be found in Him.
If you are like me it’s hard to remember that we’re Easter people when we are confronted with so much pain. When our scars hurt after the cancer has been removed, or when a noise or a seemingly innocent touch opens old wounds again. When we come in contact with the diabolical, the broken, and the outright wicked injustices in people and in systems. It’s hard to remember we’re Easter people.
Last Saturday at our vigil picnic our Advocate “big kids” hid eggs filled with candy for our “middle kids,” and our “middle kids” hid eggs for our “little kids.” Some eggs were easy to find, while others took more hunting. Sometimes they’re sitting right on the surface of the ground in bright pastel yellow, while other times they’re hidden in the knot of a tree covered in leaves. Sometimes we too have to hunt for the resurrection blessings… but they are there and Jesus has given them to us.
And when we find them, we have to share them. Christ does not step into our dark places show us his scars for us to keep the knowledge of his peace and presence to ourselves, but to send us out as ambassadors with the good news. Jesus has scars, and we can trust him with our wounds.
“Jesus of the Scars”
by Edward Shillito. (1872-1948) | Published: 1919
If we have never sought, we seek Thee now;
Thine eyes burn through the dark, our only stars;
We must have sight of thorn-pricks on Thy brow,
We must have Thee, O Jesus of the Scars.
The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;
In all the universe we have no place.
Our wounds are hurting us; where is the balm?
Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars, we claim Thy grace.
If, when the doors are shut, Thou drawest near,
Only reveal those hands, that side of Thine;
We know to-day what wounds are, have no fear,
Show us Thy Scars, we know the countersign.
The other gods were strong; but Thou wast weak;
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God’s wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone.
Blessed are those who have not seen and have not touched the scars of Jesus, and yet still believe that God raised Jesus from the dead. Amen.
