Hands Off!

Don’t touch me there!

Hands off!

I got that scar 5, 10, 15 years ago

And it reminds me everyday

To keep you and everyone else

Out of my life.

But Jesus came

Bearing scars of his own,

And an invitation:

“Touch the nail prints,

Put your hand where the blood flowed from my side.

Let my wounds give you freedom

To let yours go.”

“You can trust me with your scars.

I can’t promise it won’t hurt.

But I can promise you freedom

From the prison you have locked yourself in.

You thought it would keep you safe,

But it just kept you wounded,

Alone in your painful memories.”

“May I? Yes?

I am peeling back the layers,

Uncovering disguised feelings,

Reactive behaviors,

Exposing the roots.

Scraping, cleaning,

Replenishing the soil,

Pouring in the oil,

The water of the Word,

The light of my presence.”

“No longer are you defined by your scars!

You are safe in my arms,

Healed by my wounds.

And one day, like me,

You will offer your scars

As a testimony of hope

For others’ healing.”