Encouragement

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You’ve fought so hard and oh so long
Each step of every way;
And simply by the grace of God
You’re standing here today.

In armor that reflects the cruel
Brutalities of war;
Your silence speaks the volumes of
The wounds you can’t ignore.

A little weary and forlorn
From all that you’ve gone through;
You long for rest and peacefulness
And hope for joy that’s due

Though wounds stopped bleeding long ago
And flesh has closed in place;
The anguish and deep sorrow still
Are etched upon your face.

And while you’ve tried to cover them
Your scars are clearly seen;
Through windows to your broken soul
In teardrops do they bleed.

But to the eyes that cannot see
Beneath the surface lies;
The healing that is taking place
In answer to your cries.

Each battle has a purpose that’s
Revealed by what you fight;
Like fears and insecurities
And hope lost in the night.

Your Father has allowed each one
To rise up from the depths;
And from the battle that ensues
He purifies, corrects.

He stands beside you in the fight
Each one must come through Him;
He strengthens you to overcome
But you must fight to win.

And though you’re wounded, weary, worn
Take heart and do not fear;
For battles that result in scars
Your Father holds so dear.

Those scars are just reminders of
The places that you have been;
The depths that you have risen from
The healing from within.

And one more thing that scars impart
That’s freedom to the soul;
Who’s felt the sting, endured the blows
Whose wounds He’s making whole.

The glory of your Father God
From scars will brightly shine;
To be your testament to Grace
Like scars I claim as mine.


Do you have a scar? I do, as a matter of fact, I have several. I can look at each one of them and tell you what I was doing, and how bad each one hurt. Like the one above the kneecap on my right leg. The pain caused by the rusty bicycle seat as it fell across my leg, embedded the memory of that event on my mind. My mother cleaned it and put butterfly tape on it to hold the skin together. During the time it took the cut to heal, a scab had formed to cover the wound. After a few weeks, the scab came off, revealing a red, raised area where the new skin had grown, and fusing the cut together. It didn’t look very pretty. As a young girl, I would swear that scar covered the width of my right thigh but, as I grew, the redness faded and the scar shrank so that I barely notice it anymore.
However, all I have to do is look at it and I’m reminded of that old rusty bicycle seat. I can see the scar; I can take my finger and run across it but, it no longer causes me to limp or wince in pain; it is a reminder of something that happened a long time ago. If, when my leg was cut, my mother didn’t clean and bandaged it, but left it to heal without any medical attention, the cut would have become infected. The infection would then have caused the cut to swell more, become red and eventually infected. If the infections went untreated, it would eventually spread to other parts of my leg. If my mother continued to ignore the wound, the infection would seep into my blood stream and cause further damage to my physical body. The end result would be far worse than the original cut. If the infection continued unchecked in my body, it then would have killed the living tissue in my leg; gangrene would set in, and the only way to stop the infection from reaching my vital organs, would be to amputate.

The emotional scars we carry on the inside are similar in nature to the physical scars we carry on the outside. They cover the wounds inflicted upon our hearts and serve to remind us of the things we have suffered. The act of sexual abuse itself, and the fear and pain associated with it, embeds the memory of that event on our hearts and minds. Typically, the human mind will suppress the memory of abuse as a coping mechanism; sort of like anesthesia for the mind. It blocks the ability to recall traumatic events, and allows the victim of abuse the ability to function on a daily basis, without the emotional turmoil of that trauma incapacitating you. You haven’t forgotten what happened; your brain has literally shoved the memory into the subconscious, not allowing your conscience mind to be aware. You are aware of something, but it’s as if the back of your mind has tricked the front into believing nothing has happened, leaving you the ability to resume a sense of normalcy.

As a child, our minds cannot comprehend the atrocities of rape and molestation, and we lack the maturity to deal with the wounds abuse inflicts upon our hearts. But, because the wound scars over in the subconscious, it lies beneath the surface and festers. As it remains suppressed, the infection-if you will, spreads throughout our spirit man and eventually, spills over into the natural realm to affect us physically. The physical symptoms can include, but are not limited to, depression, anger, anxiety, withdrawal from family and friends, unusual interest in sex or fear of sexual intimacy. Some women gain weight in order to become unattractive and protect themselves from further abuse, while others seem to gravitate toward more abuse. There isn’t a set pattern an abuse victim will follow. What one does, the other may not do. The common factor is the spiritual infection of the untreated wound, and the increase of emotional pain and turmoil.

As we enter adulthood, the memory of abuse may remain in the deepest recesses of our mind. (Our coping mechanism has placed the memory in a closet, and locked the door.) Over time, as the circumstances of life happen, the memory is brought to the surface. Again, there isn’t a set pattern when this occurs. Women have indicated memory recall in their teenage years, while others didn’t remember until they had reached their 60’s. But, when the memories do surface; since the mind suppressed the original trauma; the emotions experienced by the victim of abuse, during and after recall, are just as real, and just as intense, as if the trauma had just occurred. In other words, the abuse victim begins to live in present tense emotional trauma of the past sexual abuse. The physical emotions experienced, tie the past to the present. With time, the wounds will scar over and symbolize the pain we hold in our heart.

For many years my scars were quite visible. Even though I constantly wore a smile, if anyone cared to look a little closer, they would have discovered a deep sadness in my eyes. If they would have listened a little closer, they would have heard the remnants of disappointment and anger. My heart was covered in scars, and each day, they reminded me of what had happened. My scars defined me.

If God gave us the ability to look at our hearts, I’m sure we’d see many scars. Although physically, we cannot touch them or run our fingers over them, we can recall each one, and we can bring to mind which wound caused which scar. The memories of what took place in our childhood will always be with us. Our minds are designed to collect, record, process, and store information. Even if we tried, it is impossible for the human mind to forget. Our minds do not have that capacity. Even useless information is stored in the recesses of our brain. We may not be able to recall it at will but, it’s there. What we allow that stored information to do to us, will determine how sick our hearts are, and how far we are removed from God.

No matter how long your wounds have gone untreated, there is still good news. Our Father in Heaven has the ability to heal your wounds of old, and give you the ability to overcome the abuse, so the scars you have, simply become a reminder of where God has brought you from. That is the goal. To bring you out of the present tense pain and anguish, into the present tense healing of God, with the ability to use your scars to help someone else. That is my purpose for writing this book. To use the pain I lived in, to the glory of our God. My scars stand for rape and sexual abuse; they signify intense emotional pain, and sorrow. They are signs of a life filled with confusion, great disappointment, and intense disillusionment. But, more importantly, my scars represent unfailing love and mercy. They radiate with the present tense healing power of God, as He changes me from pain, to promise. They are my scars, reminding me of my past. I claim them as mine. But, they shine the beauty of God and they tell the story of a child set free from an abusive past, and the woman who now stands as a testament to Him.

Life is a battle. It is a battle for our hearts and souls, and the battle is fierce. Everyday we must fight to keep our hearts and minds from our enemy. We can count on receiving blows designed to wound us, and those wounds will produce scars, which will remind us of the battle we are in. But, the scars we receive can create a lasting testimony of mercy and grace, instead of pain and anguish.

If you are battle weary, tired and worn, and want to use your scars to the glory of God, I encourage you to pray this prayer with me.

My Father in Heaven, on this day I bring to You the scars of my heart. The scars that represent the battles I have fought here on earth. Each scar representing the wounds I have received. I ask You, O God, to use them for Your glory. What Satan has meant for evil in my life, use for Your good. Use them to help someone else who is lost inside their pain; imprisoned in their past, and use my pain to set another free. In Jesus Name I pray, Amen.


© 2006
“Whispers From My Heart” By: Cheryl Thompson

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