The week of Thanksgiving carries painful memories. Memories of the day, nine years ago when a doctor told me that my body wasn’t formed correctly in the womb, resulting in being unable to bear my own babies. When people gather around the dinner table on Thanksgiving and share what they are thankful for, my heart pauses to remember that day – the day I was told my body was broken and different.
My memory is flooded with that doctor’s visit, and the days shortly after. The most vivid memory is of the following Sunday morning at church. As I sat in service the pastor announced that that Sunday was baby dedication. I made it through a few minutes, before rushing to the bathroom, to privately cry my pain.
I often long for a different body – whether in shallow wishes such as a slimmer build, thicker hair, clearer skin, or in the longing that my body would be able to bear children.
When I experience reminders of my broken body – my body that bears echoes of the fall, I search the Scriptures for truths in which to anchor my soul. I long to be reminded that I’m not alone, and that my current circumstances aren’t permanent. “How long, O Lord” cries my weary heart. The familiar prayer leaves my lips, and enters into the throne room of the Father.
Throughout my weekend, there were reminders that God sees and cares for me.
My dear husband that prayed over me “Lead her into green pastures”, as I sat crying on the sofa.
The pastor reminding his flock from John 10, that Jesus is our Good Shepherd.
And so, I press in, and fill my heart with the promises of God.
Our Father promises that underneath us are His everlasting arms. (Deuteronomy 33:27)
Our Father declares that He has engraved us on the palms of my hands (Isaiah 49:16)
Charles Spurgeon unpacks that verse and reminds us that it says ““I have engraved you.” It does not say “your name” The name is there, but that is not all: “I have engraved you. Consider the depth of this! “I have engraved your person, your image, your circumstances, your sins, your temptations, your weaknesses, your wants, your works; I have engraved you, everything about you, all that concerns you; I have put all of this together here. Will you ever say again that your God has forsaken you when He has engraved you on His own palms?”
Those truths are glorious, and remind us that God is sustaining our hearts, even when our bodies are broken by the fall. An even more stunning truth is reminding ourselves of our Savior whose body also bears the scars – the ultimate scars.
“But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.” – Isaiah 53:5
Christ broke His body, so that we might be made whole. His physical body endured cruel torture and suffering. He knows what it’s like to be weak, hurting, and in pain. He’s our great High Priest, who can sympathize with His sheep.
I rest my heart in the fact that my body won’t always be broken. I rest in the final words of the Bible, where God declares that a day is coming when He’ll wipe away every tear from our eyes, death shall be no more, and there will be no mourning, crying or pain, because the former things will pass away.
Our bodies might be broken, and bear unimaginable scars. Some of us have suffered physical or sexual abuse, some of us suffer from chronic fatigue or cancer, and most of us suffer from regular weariness. But our broken bodies aren’t the end of the story.
I had to have three cryosurgeries on my cervix in order to bear children. Other than those, I have had 13 operations, mostly for my joints. I have hypermobility and possibly Ehler-Danlos Type III, fibromyalgia, and osteoarthritis, necessitating 5 total joint replacements by the age of 60. My many scars make me think of the dozens more scars from whips and other instruments that Jesus had to bear before being crucified. He truly feels our suffering.