Resurrection Sunday! Arguably the most celebrated day in Christendom. It’s a day of victory and elation. A day to reflect on God’s grace for us and the power He wields to resurrect us even as Jesus is resurrected. Good Friday becomes Good because of the resurrection! One day, like our messiah, we will have a new body given to us that will not wither or fail. The older I get the more comfort that provides!

Years ago, something was pointed out to me about Christ’s resurrected body. It was unsettling. This detail I had not paid much attention to, though I’d read, heard and studied the gospels for a couple of decades by then. There was a feature in His glorified form that I had overlooked. Jesus still had his scars in His resurrected body.

Countless times have I read the portion on Jesus’ magical appearance to His disciples where He confronts Thomas to show Him it is indeed Himself. The evidence ,of course, are the wounds still present. Eight days before showing up to Thomas and the others Jesus teleported in their midst and presented the same evidence. The proof it was Jesus indeed. He showed first His hands and then His side. As you know, Thomas did not accept their account and refused to believe until he felt the wounds.

My focus had always been on how Jesus’ resurrected body seemed to have the ability to translate, at any given moment, wherever He wished. My warped sense of humor had me wondering if Jesus enjoyed showing up in the middle of His disciples and freaking them out. I have a comedy version of the gospels in my head that includes this scene with Christ’s sudden appearance introduced with a startling rendition of, “Peace be with you!” I imagine everyone whipping around and collectively sucking wind and perhaps a mild epithet or two slips out.

I hadn’t, until the moment it was emphasized by someone else, considered that Jesus’ new form would include scars left by the injustice of the world. I could quote you the passage from the Gospel of John, but it had never landed. I was stunned that in all of God’s power, in His transcendent glory, in His infinite wisdom He chose to leave the scars. It rattled me. It made me a bit angry. That’s not how I’d write the story. I don’t want my scars in my resurrected body. I want to be made whole again in a way that wipes those wounds away. I don’t want an eternal reminder of things done to me or that I’ve done to myself, nevermind what I’ve done to others.

People say that scars are cool. That scars are a reminder of survival, acts of heroism, or evidence of great and dangerous adventures. I don’t disagree, save for one category of scars: The wounds given to me against my will.

When I was quite young I would have a sparsely recurring nightmare. In it I would be asleep or relaxed and enjoying something pleasant. Assailants would come swiftly out of nowhere. They would pin me down and begin tattooing me. It might sound silly, but in my dreams these tattoo artists had a desperate malice. They would attempt to give me tattoos that I didn’t want while I struggled violently against them. In the dreams they never got very far before I struggled free or something would stave them off. I would awake angry, sweaty and out of breath.

Even at a young age I knew what that dream was about. It was about the world doing things to me that I expressly didn’t permit. The ways evil comes at you in times of vulnerable peace intent on wounding you if not destroying you altogether. Wounds I didn’t want. Things I shouldn’t have to go through, that no one should have to go through. Unjust injuries.

And yet, as is often the case, the wisdom of God is not like my wisdom. I’ve learned that when I’m offended by something in the scriptures, it’s time to dig in. A couple pre-suppositions I’ve come to before digging include: God is always good. My intelligence and understanding are limited. His are not. My ways are not as good as His ways. He loves me. He loves me to ask questions and struggle to understand. He has given me the Scriptures and Christian community to wrestle with His ideas and strategies. The sages say an hour of study is worth an hour of prayer. It must be that I should do an hour of each, equal time wrestling with God Almighty and His words.

After wrestling for a time on this topic, I’ve come to believe unjust suffering is deeply meaningful to our God. The intent of the scars must be not to remind me of what’s done to me or what I’ve done to others, but rather what has been overcome. Despite our enemy’s attempts to steal, kill and destroy God is more committed to my victory over each and every unjust evil that attempts to tattoo me.

The scars remain

The scars remain in Christ’s resurrected body to demonstrate His power to overcome what the world intended to do. It’s evidence of Satan’s plan thwarted and undone. The Innocent crucified has returned not just in His own new body but destroys the diseased DNA in all bodies and offers us the genetic code of the eternal. The decay of the grave and the cells of hell have been forced open to await new life’s invasion.

When my scars were due to some evil perpetrated against me, I hated them. I used to do my best to forget them. If others saw them I filled with shame. I didn’t like them being pointed out. I didn’t appreciate them being uncovered. I looked forward to them being scrubbed away by death never to be seen again in my new existence.

But if Jesus endured the indignity of His wounds… and not just endured them… He featured them in His glorified temple, perhaps I can leave them visible. It was the very first identifier that He used to prove to His disciples that it was He. He didn’t read their minds or remind them of something only they would know about. He didn’t perform a magic trick (other than the teleporting bit). He showed them His scars.

Nowadays I see my scars differently. I see Christ’s work. The assurance that through His wounds I am being healed. Every evil will be remedied. Everything broken will be set right. An object of unmerited disfavor, He endured misunderstanding, slander, accusation, mistrial, betrayal, desertion, beating, mocking, and crucifixion. He did this in order to transform the body of evil works done to each of us into a triumphal opus of restoration.

He sees my suffering and suffers for it. He has put in me the kind of spirit that conquers it. I don’t have to wonder if I’ll make it through. I know I will because of what He’s already accomplished. It’s as sure in this body as it is in the next.

Even so… I can’t wait to zap myself into a room of unsuspecting folks and drop, “Peace be with you!” just to see the looks on their faces.