Scars

They say all scars tell a story.

They say all scars tell a story,
and that every story is meant to be heard.
By why mine? Why my scars?
The hurt is too private, 
no one would understand.


They say all scars tell a story,
but it's not one I want to tell.
You wouldn't understand.
My scars are too deep to bring to light,
they're the ones I am ashamed of, 
scared of.


They say all scars tell a story,
but who would want to listen?
My story is hard to say,
it hurts,
it's painful,
keep it inside.
My scars are mine alone.


They say all scars tell a story
but are mine really the worst?
There are stories far more important to tell
of love 
and redemption,
of sacrifice.
My perfect lamb, His palms, marred by my scars, my secrets,
those I tried to hide, 
the worst of me
on display for His majesty.


They say all scars tell a story,
the perfect story of love,
of faith, of surrender.
My scars are private, painful,
but they speak of surrender, 
of peace,
of coming
back
home.


They say all scars tell a story,
and mine is calling out to be told.
My Savior touching the scars,
making them whole.
Perfect, 
untouched, 
a beautiful testimony
to Him and His story.


They say all scars tell a story.
Mine have a matching set.
The palms of His hands and the depths of my heart,
together they form a beautiful love,
a beautiful surrender.
Only He can complete my story.


They say all scars tell a story.
They're all waiting to be told.
Listen to your scars,
what are they saying to you?