We were rooming together in Ecuador. Shawna, my friend with Compassion International, pointed out a scar on my shoulder.

“You’ve been marked,” she said. She pulled her sleeve up. “We both have.”

She had melanoma. I had skin cancer. I have five scars, most of them hidden, where the doctor removed the harmful cells.

Then there’s the scars she didn’t see.

I have a significant scar where surgeons removed breast cancer at the age of 32.

I have stretch marks.

A scar across my stomach where my appendix burst.

We’re marked.

Life does that. It leaves scars and alterations.

Not too long ago I thought about my own story and for the first time in my 54 years, I thanked God for the scars of my childhood.ย 

It’s easy to thank Him for the stretchmarks that represent my children, or the scars that shout out to the world that I’m a survivor of cancer.

But those scars of the past? I realized that they were just as beautiful.

Those scars are a mark of how beautifully God has healed me.

They reveal where Jesus’ tender touch found the woundsย and made them whole.

Are you marked?

What is God whispering to you about those scars?