More Than These

 "When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, 'Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?'" John 21: 15a

    I picture myself dining in my home with Jesus, a simple meal of warm bread and fish, just the two of us. Satiated, we push back and place napkins on the table. I'm not thinking of anything in particular (except maybe dessert) when His piercing gaze meets mine and He asks me plainly, "Rachel, daughter of Russ and Trudy, do you love me more than these?"

    My heart quickens as I look around at all the stuff that represents my life: pictures of my family, sentimental keepsakes in the china cabinet, loving tokens from others, items of comfort and security. Would I give it all up for Christ? 

    This verse comes to mind as I write: "For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his own soul?" (Mark 8:36) Is anything around me worth more than Jesus?

    Consider heaven. What do I want to see upon my arrival, first and foremost? The colossal gate made of a single pearl? The shiny, golden street as pure as transparent glass? The merry eyes of my mother? 

    If heaven were a barren landscape, void of all save Jesus, would I be just as eager to go there? Do I truly love Him more than these?

    Yes! A thousand times, Yes! May it be so. May I join Simon Peter in saying, 

"'Yes, Lord,' he said, 'You know that I love you.'" John 21: 15b

    

Scars for Life

 "Now Thomas, 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.'" John 20: 24-27

    Do you have any scars?

    I have one that I received when I was about five or six years old, when some of the neighborhood kids and I were constructing a blanket-over-the-clothesline tent. As I was laying down a foundational brick, so was another kid who accidentally squished my pinky finger between our two bricks. 

    The game was over as I ran inside to my mother and kids dispersed. I can still recall my personal horror when I saw the doctor actually sewing my skin together, as my mom would darn a sock.  

    Today, I look at the crooked scar with a fondness, allowing the childhood memories of play and providence to warm me  It has become physical proof of what transpired on that day.

    Over the years, I have acquired other scars, though these are of the invisible sort. Most of these stem from my own rebellion, though some were caused by others. These old wounds are part of who I am; they are mile markers of where I have been, what I have done and (hopefully) how much I have learned from my mistakes. 

    The question is: Are they scars or are they wounds? In other words, have these inflictions healed?

    It shames me to admit this, but I have a wound I have been nursing for forty years! Isn't it about time I give it to Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of my life? Anything I have suffered pales in comparison to the pains He endured for my sake. 

    His scars are for my life. After allowing Jesus to heal me, only then can I look upon these internal scars with fondness because they have become evidence of my faith in Christ. 

"Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed." Isaiah 53: 4, 5