The End Where I…

Today I rode on a borrowed bike across the street I grew up on, to bike through the neighborhoods of my childhood to drop off fresh bread at Ghost’s house.

That is what they call trippy.

As the Script would say “It’s the end where I begin.

I’m living about a mile from the house I grew up in. I’m twenty-something now. As long as you forget the eight years in the middle (My roommates said something to the effect that Ghost would have to get used to new foods because he’s “basically marrying a foreigner!”), I haven’t been away even two years. I was born, edumacated, graduated from college, started dating, and got engaged, all in a six mile radius of here. Perhaps I could get away with pretending to have always been from here.

One of my favorite bands is Thousand Foot Krutch. At various points in my life they have had fitting songs for the circumstances I found myself in. I guess right now I fall into that phase of life that’s considered a “transition”. Incidentally, TFK is self-releasing a new album, called “The End is Where We Begin”. I got to download the song called “War of Change” for free here. It contains these lyrics:

    Everything’s about to change,
    I feel it in my veins, its not going away,
    Everything’s about to change…

As Ghost would say, I can agree with that just a little bit.

For Christmas I got a book, where, incidentally, the main character is a linguist, who spends a large portion of the book trying to get home. However, one of the other main characters is an engineer, named Tanner Sack. At one point he goes to have a surgeon, or “chirurgeon”, operate on (“remake”) him. After the successful operation the chirurgeon tells him:

    “Some of of the cuts I’ve made, some of the wounds, they may heal hard. They might scar. In that case, I want you not to be downhearted or disappointed. Scars are not injuries, Tanner Sack. A scar is a healing. After injury a scar is what makes you whole.”

The Script notes that “Sometimes your first scars won’t ever fade away…”

In the same way, it seems fitting to consider our scars.

I remember back in March, Ghost and I had a discussion about scars. He probably doesn’t remember, but I remember being impressed. Who is this that inquires after my scars?

But, as one or another of those sayings goes, not every injury shows. At one point, I was telling my Perspectives class that Wycliffe sounded cool, but that they wanted me to go to somewhere like Papua New Guinea. I balked about how I was SICK of traveling, doan wanna go anywhere. Mitch asked me “Are you speaking from open wounds?” I did my best to procrastinate responding to that, though he got it out of me in the end.

So, let us consider our scars. Some of your wounds may heal hard. They may scar. In that case, don’t be downhearted or disappointed. Scars are not injuries. A scar is a healing. We have a Great Physician, a Greater Chirurgeon than Tanner Sack had. His cuts are more exacting than any living surgeon’s knife.

Moreover, He’s not without scars Himself. He was despised and rejected, a man of sorrows, familiar with grief, despised, bearing griefs, stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted, pierced, and crushed, marred beyond human likeness. This is our Messiah, nailed to a tree, like a common criminal.

Behold, even for the disciple who said “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe,” our LORD was merciful, and said “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.”

As DH put it, “This tourniquet, these blessed hands around my head // So I can keep from bleeding.” Lo, by His wounds, we are healed. By His perfect act of surrender and submission we are made whole. At the end of time, we will be pure and spotless, and the wounds of the Lamb, wounds borne for us and our redemption, will be to His eternal glory.

May my doubt and fear and pain be put in His hands, that I may echo with the disciple “My LORD and my God!”

This entry was posted in Books, Music, St Paul Vagabond, Theology, Travel. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to The End Where I…

  1. Pingback: Hey-o here comes the danger | The City Theologist

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