Showing Our Scars
3/30/08
Rev Jon Smoot
I Peter 1: 3-12 & John 20:19-31

Several years ago I was invited by our headquarters in Louisville to participate in a Theological Consultation, called the ‘Pastor as Theologian”. The topic we debated for three days was “The Resurrection of the Body.” Lots of great discussion, but the most intriguing part for me pastorally was this question: “Will our resurrected bodies bear the scars of the emotional and physical wounds we receive during our lives?” Two possible answers, presuming a bodily resurrection: No, - all things are made new; new creation, that way it was supposed to be in God’s original intention. Yes, - the scar tissue of body, soul, or heart, never goes away, albeit healed.

I firmly believe that the scars we receive along our life’s journey are deeply woven into the tapestry that makes you, you and me, me. This isn’t to say that the scars are pleasant, or to be rejoiced over, in some twisted martyr-shtick, but they are there. I also believe that there is healing now for scars and ultimate healing in God’s grace and participation in God’s everlasting life. But what happens to us in this life is precisely what informs so much of our identity – I know I bear the wounds from betrayal and divorce, but I also know that those wounds are scabbing over and have made me a better man, a more open man for this life and beyond. The great prophets Isaiah and Eric Clapton are right: there are “no more tears in heaven” – death, sorrow and pain are swallowed up. No more tears, but there are scars in heaven. John, the writer of Revelation, talks about his vision of heaven where he sees the Lamb of God, still bearing the scars, looking as if it had been slain. But heaven recognizes Jesus for the scars, and goes wild with rejoicing for the powerful victory won over death. We are recognizable by our scars.

John’s Gospel today opens up on the scene that first Easter night: It is not a Hallmark Card Easter moment: We find a band of demoralized disciples, huddled in abject terror, no longer a community, because their center, Jesus, was gone. They expect the locked door to be smashed open any moment, with the authorities out for their blood. They are huddled, but still isolated from each other, alone with their wounds of betrayal, cowardice, loss, and fear. Suddenly Jesus is in the middle of them. They’re rightfully terrified, and he says, “Peace be with you.” Still not convinced, John says that Jesus showed them his scars. It was then they recognized him. Suddenly they knew that this was the real deal, the crucified and dead Master, who comes back to them. His credentials are his scars, the suffering servant of God, who hasn’t run away from them – or from God – and has earned their trust and worship as the Messiah of God. Good old Thomas, who wasn’t there, just harrumphs when the disciples tell him the good news about the risen Jesus. Jesus does a special curtain call just for him and the scene is repeated. Jesus shows Thomas his scars, and Thomas falls at his feet and worships.

Do you find it as startling as I do that Easter, God’s stunning triumph over death and defeat, does not erase the scars? But maybe it makes complete sense. As a pastor, newly arriving in a church, it is, of course, expected that many parishioners will want to introduce themselves to me. What always strike me as miraculous is that people often want to tell me about some past wound they have suffered. Why do they tell me this? So that I can join them in some pity-party? No. They tell me so that I will know them. “You will know me now,” they seem to say, “by my scars.” Our stories are often most clearly told by our scars.

Do you remember that scene from the movie “Jaws” that first night out on the boat? The three intrepid shark hunters are drinking whiskey in the cabin and before long, there they all are, pulling up their shirts or pants legs to show each other their scars in a game of “Can you top this?” My boys, when they were smaller, loved to see the dozen or so scars on my legs from playing sports as a teenager, or more humbling, from my close encounters with power tools over the years. Maybe it’s a guy thing, but what the heck, we wear the scars proudly as badges of courage and honor, and sometimes stupidity.

Jesus showed them his scars, and they recognized him. The writer of the Book of Hebrews says that “Jesus, who for the joy set before him, endured the cross, blew off the shame, and is now seated in glory at the right hand of God.” Jesus’ joy was found in his obedience to the command of God, which is life eternal for all – no matter the cost. There is unshakeable joy in falling in line with God’s gracious decision of authentic and complete life for all. For Jesus, the scars of obedient living and dying for all of humanity bring the joy of resurrection. It is also true for us: the scars of obedient living help to bring the joy of resurrection not only to ourselves but to everyone with whom God calls us to be in contact.

God has dreams for you and me and for the world – stunning dreams of wholeness, shalom and peace. Obedience means getting connected with God’s dream, then rolling up our sleeves and sharing the wounds of others, for God’s sake. But these dreams are costly. Obedience is costly – you know that, and so do I – obedience may take us to places we don’t want to go and to deal with truths that are more than just a little inconvenient. The Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright, Barack Obama’s former pastor – has been pounded by the pundits for telling truths from the pulpit. The Rev John Thomas, General Minister and President of the United Church of Christ sent this message out in Holy Week to all UCC congregations:

Many of us would prefer to avoid the stark and startling language Pastor Wright used in these clips. But what was his real crime? He is condemned for using a mild "obscenity" in reference to the United States. This week we mark the fifth anniversary of the war in Iraq, a war conceived in deception and prosecuted in foolish arrogance. Nearly four thousand cherished Americans have been killed, countless more wounded, and tens of thousands of Iraqis slaughtered. Where is the real obscenity here? True patriotism requires a degree of self-criticism, even self-judgment that may not always be easy or genteel. Pastor Wright's judgment may be starker and more sweeping than many of us are prepared to accept. But is the soul of our nation served any better by the polite prayers and gentle admonitions while the dying and destruction continues?
The gospel narrative of Palm Sunday's entrance into Jerusalem concludes with the overturning of the money changers' tables in the Temple courtyard. Here wealth and power and greed were challenged for the way the poor were oppressed to the point of exclusion from a share in the religious practices of the Temple. Today we watch as the gap between the obscenely wealthy and the obscenely poor widens. More and more of our neighbors are relegated to minimal health care or to no health care at all. Foreclosures destroy families while unscrupulous lenders seek bailouts from regulators who turned a blind eye to the impending crisis. Should the preacher today respond to this with only a whisper and a sigh?

Is Pastor Wright to be ridiculed and condemned for refusing to play the pet court prophet, blessing land and sovereign while pledging allegiance to our preoccupation with wealth and our fascination with weapons? Not every pastor in the United Church of Christ will want to share Pastor Wright's rhetoric or his politics. Not every member will rise to shout "Amen!" But I trust we will all struggle in our own way to resist the lure of respectable religion that seeks to displace true evangelical faith. For what this nation needs is not so much polite piety as the rough and radical word of the prophet calling us to repentance.

There is a cost for obedience, to be sure. But there is also a primal joy in following Jesus into the world. The joy of sharing the wounds of others and of the world’s wounds far, far outweighs the small comfort we think we take in isolation and insulation from the world’s pain. There is scar-bearing and scar-sharing work to be done that God has prepared beforehand in which you and I and this church are to walk. Ironically, the heavier burden lies in disobedience, in good people doing nothing while evil thrives. Scar-bearing and scar-sharing beats all hollow the alternative – avoiding the pain of loving others and loving the world.

We rejoice that God so loves the world, but let us never forget that this love also breaks God’s great heart, as love must break ours. C. S. Lewis writes in his book, The Four Loves: “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung, and probably broken. If you want to make sure of keeping your heart intact, you must give it to no one… It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, and irredeemable. The alternative to being hurt, or at least to the risk of being hurt, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and agitations of love, is hell.”

We are called to costly love, because God has borne a costly love toward us and our world.
Edward Shillito, a British pastor, wrote a poem during the unspeakable horrors of World War I – it is entitled, “Jesus of the Scars.” Here’s one stanza:

If when the doors are shut, Thou drawest near,
Only reveal those hands, that side of Thine;
We know today what wounds are; have no fear;
Show us Thy Scars; we know the countersign.

Yes, we do know the countersign – our own scars, for love’s sake. God comes to you and me today to breathe God’s Spirit and recreate a community and send us out as a fellowship of loving joy, and obedient scar-bearing. This is what being a resurrection community of joy is all about, and this is how the world recognizes Jesus. The most eloquent testimony we can make to the reality of the resurrection is this: That we are a people with scar tissue on our hands and hearts, whose life together is so radically different from the way the world goes about its business that there can be no other explanation other than that great grace is upon us all.

God is calling us to a kind of sweat equity in the world’s redemption. May it be so – for that is where true joy is to be found. Thanks be to God!