We live in an age that pursues perfection. Got crow’s feet? Forget wrinkle cream – now there’s botox! Just keep injecting it every eight to ten weeks, and no one will notice that you’re no longer a youthful 29.

Is your chin sagging? Maybe it’s time for a little lift or tuck. Not everyone’s doing it, but many are. These days, covering up the hard evidence of living is not just perfectly acceptable – it’s expected!

But did you know that some folks have actually esteemed their scars? It’s true. Consider these words penned by William Shakespeare and spoken by his King Henry V of Britain, moments before he led his men into the bloody battle of Agincourt:

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors, And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian.’ Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say, ‘These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.’

The battle waged at Agincourt was so fierce, and the victory so heroic, that Henry predicted his men would forevermore consider their scars a mark of honor.

The Bible, too, tells stories of men who esteemed their scars. Paul gladly catalogued his in the second letter to the Corinthians: “Five times I received from the Jews thirty-nine lashes. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, a night and a day I have spent in the deep…I have been in labor and hardship, through many sleepless nights, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure.” (2 Corinthians 11:24-25; 27)

Even Jesus’ scars remained evident in his glorified body, and identified Him as the resurrected Lord to his own disciple, Thomas. The prophet Isaiah claimed we would all be hopelessly sin-sick but for those very same scars of Christ: “The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)

What about us? Do we attempt to camouflage the marks left on us by living for and loving Jesus? Or worse, are we wound-free?

Missionary poet Amy Carmichael pierced my heart once long ago with these words: “Yet as the Master, shall the servant be, and pierced are the feet that follow Me…Can he have followed far, who hast not wound, nor scar?”

Oh, can you imagine a day in heaven when you and I, like Henry’s brave soldiers of Agincourt, might “strip our sleeve and show our scars” and say, “I love these wounds. They were entrusted to me by my mighty, victorious, loving commander, whose name is Christ?”

Dear Jesus, teach me to esteem my scars!

© Leigh McLeroy 2002