Being a funeral director must be difficult, every client a grief-stricken one. But what about being an embalmer, every client a deceased one?
I remember a thought-provoking movie from 1991 called “My Girl.” One of the lead characters (played by Jamie Lee Curtis) was a professional cosmetologist who took a job preparing dead bodies for their final appearance in the casket. Although the movie had an interesting storyline, the most thought-provoking thing about it was wondering how hard it would be to do the hair and makeup of someone who’d already died. Linked with that job is a question that’s been rumbling around in my head for years. Do people working on the bodies notice scars?
Certain scars are easy to identify: a Cesarean section, an appendectomy, a hernia, open heart surgery. But what about the others? Do embalmers try to guess? Do they talk together about unusual scars? And more importantly, do they feel respect for the one who has borne them?
Everybody could tell tales of trauma linked to their scars. It seems probable the more scars a person has, the deeper the character of that life, a phenomenon of the strange relationship between outer hardship and inner growth. If we had our way, we’d skip scars altogether, since each one translates to an experience of personal pain.
Some people willingly endure pain now, for a perk later: piercings, tattoos, corrective surgery. Nate was eager to go under the knife when the orthopedic surgeon told him his back pain would decrease after he healed.
But when I think of willingly undergoing pain deep enough to leave a scar without any perks afterwards, the chief example is Christ Jesus. His scars were many – both hands, both feet, his side, his brow, and all over his lacerated body – yet he agreed to every bit of it ahead of time, for our benefit and not his own.
I’m sure when we get to heaven, all of us will still have our scars, because Jesus still had his when he appeared to the disciples in his resurrected body. He showed them his healed wounds and invited them to touch his scars. In this life we think of scars as ugly deformities, but in that new world, I believe scars will be considered the most beautiful thing about us. Certainly the scars of Jesus will be supremely meaningful to us throughout eternity, because without the voluntary suffering that caused them, we wouldn’t be in heaven.
I think also of emotional scars, the kind no coroner or embalmer can see. Scars on our skin are an indication that physical healing has already taken place. Scar tissue is actually stronger than uninjured tissue and resists future damage better. But emotional wounds hidden deep within us often heal slower and sometimes don’t heal at all. Was Jesus emotionally wounded? After reading Luke 22, the only feasible answer is “yes”.
Surely his emotional scars were healed after his resurrection, just as his physical wounds were. But what about the rest of us and the emotional wounds that continue to fester within us here on earth? In the next world, will they be healed, too?
My guess is they’ll be transformed… into beautiful scars.
“[Thomas] said… ‘Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.’ Then [Jesus] said…‘Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.’” (John 20:25b,27)
Hi Margaret,
Interesting thoughts today. I have a 5 inch scar on my right wrist from when I broke it- kind of freaks my students out the first time they see it- gives me added disciplinary clout. 🙂
I never considered that we also would bear scars in heaven, though transformed ones. In Revelation 5:6, John sees “a Lamb standing, as if slain.” I kind of always thought only the Lord would bear the marks of His suffering as an eternal visual that we are there in perfection because of them. I don’t know what it means for Him to present His church without spot or wrinkle- the individual believer? the collective whole? does that include scars? Good food for thought.
I read a book by Brennan Manning years ago and was struck in one accounting of how a Down’s Syndrome Amish man came up and planted a long, full kiss on Brennan to express his delight at seeing him. If the man did not have Down’s this would have been awkward to say the least. Yet, impaired intellectually, he was unimpaired emotionally. It made me think at that point not only about the healing of physical disabilities- the lame will leap, the blind will see, etc.- but the intellectual, emotional, relational ones as well.
The Revelation is the great unveiling- the unveiling of Jesus for sure (we could only see the Godhead veiled in flesh as the Christmas carol teaches- imagine how our socks will be knocked off when we see Him unveiled), but it will also be the unveiling of us. I guess we’ll know then what He will do with all of those scars. I once saw an evangelistic painter start a canvas picture, then shockingly mar it with dark black strokes, and then use those strokes to fit in beautifully with the final scene. Perhaps that is how our scars will be dealt with as well.
Love,
Terry
I think we will be very surprised at what constitutes a glorified body. Somehow I think it will be far from the ‘ideal’ created by the media, etc. The wonder will be that the glorified body will never wear out or experience pain. But the greatest wonder is that we will know as we are known. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.
Darn, Martye- You mean I won’t look like Barbie? 🙁
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