John 20:19-31
Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. (Vv.19-20)
A couple of times over the past few months, I've mentioned that my father had a serious motorcycle
accident a number of years ago. I want to tell you about that this morning, about my dad and his
scars. For most of my childhood, my dad was an active alcoholic. I don't know when he started to
drink, or what the trigger was, I only know that it profoundly affected my life and the life of our
family.
My memories of him when I was little are marked by fear much more than love. Alcoholics aren't
predictable -- I never knew what his mood would be when he came into a room. He never hit us, but
he has a big voice and it seemed to me that he was angry most of the time.
As the years went on, it became my policy to just avoid him whenever possible. When he walked
in one door, I slipped out the other. When I needed him to know something, I told my mom and she
passed along the message.
Then it all changed .... when I was 15, my dad had a motorcycle accident that should have taken his
life. He was coming home from a party with friends from work, having drunk too much as usual.
Anyway, the best we can figure is that he hit a bump in the road, lost control of the bike, and flipped
several times. He doesn't remember any of it. It was around 2 a.m. -- not much traffic at that time
of night. But there was one car -- and the driver saw what happened and called for help. In the
emergency room, my dad "coded" twice -- his heart stopped and they brought him back. I remember
that night so clearly -- my older sister woke me up and told me what happened, and I knew that it
was really serious -- that Dad could die.
I knew that, and I couldn't decide if I should pray for him to live or pray for him to die. That's a
pretty awful thing for a daughter, isn't it -- but our lives were pretty awful at that point. Finally, I
decided to just pray for God's will. When I did that, I remember I felt an almost tangible sense of
peace -- I knew that God would take care of it all.
Despite some pretty tough odds, my dad lived, and that night, that accident, was our new beginning.
You see, my dad had a cross in his pocket that my mom had given him, a small aluminum cross that
said, "God loves you." While he was still in intensive care, our pastor asked him if he believed that,
and he said, "I guess I have to now." That night was the last night he drank. My family calls his
accident one of our greatest blessings.
It wasn't an immediate change. It took years for him to heal emotionally, to get rid of that alcoholic
mentality, but in time, I found that my dad is one of the greatest men I will ever know. I could not
love him more than I do today and I could not be more proud of who he is. Nor could I be more
grateful; God gave him back to us.
I tell you all of this because our family has a constant reminder of that time in our lives -- in the
accident, the hot exhaust pipe of the motorcycle laid on my dad's leg for several minutes. It burned
through skin and into muscle before they got it off him. He has this huge angry scar on his leg that
will never go away. To me, when I see that scar, I remember his pain, and I remember our pain as
a family, but I also remember that God saved him and us when things were pretty bad.
For many people, the disciples included, Jesus' scars identify him as the Savior. When he came into
the room, he showed his friends the marks on his body and they rejoiced to see him. And Thomas,
who missed him the first time, claimed that only if he saw Jesus' scars would he believe that it was
really him.
Even now, if we see a painting or drawing of a man with scars on his hands we know immediately
that He is the Lord. It's his identifying mark.
But my family has another scar to look at to know who is our Lord -- the one on my dad's leg. That
scar reminds us of Jesus' love as well. A love strong enough to save us from the disease of
alcoholism.
I have spent a lot of time today telling you my story -- my dad's story. I know that each of you have
scars and stories too -- events and experiences in your life that have left a mark on you, either
physically or emotionally. I pray that in those scars you may see the work of God -- not that he
caused them, but that he was with you at that time, that somehow he worked through them for your
benefit. And I pray that you will share your stories and your scars with someone that they may also
know the love of God for them.
Look again at the last verse of our Gospel lesson for today -- "These things are written so that you
may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name."
May we share our own stories -- our own scars -- that others may believe as well. Let your scars lead
to life. Amen.
(Comments to bshaw@geneseo.net)