Scars and All: God’s Best Work Through Our Worst Moments

There was a time when I’d stand in front of the mirror and struggle to see anything beyond the dark patches of my congenital satellite nevi—birthmarks scattered across my skin. Instead of noticing the rich sable tones of my hair, the warmth of my coffee-colored eyes, or the wide curve of my smile, all I saw were imperfections. To me, these marks weren’t just skin deep; they felt like evidence of something fundamentally wrong with me.  

Before I met Jesus, who defines our identity, I met a world eager to define it for me—a world with rigid standards that told me I wasn’t enough. So, I hid. I hid my skin, my desire for connection, my thoughts, my personality . . . myself. I tucked myself away beneath layers of pride, pain, and self-protection. If I could stay invisible, maybe I could avoid rejection.  

But even after I came to know God, the habits of hiding clung to me, molding a skewed framework for interacting with Him and others. 

My birthmarks were not the only scars I had to face—they were just the most visible. Words spoken in anger seared “worthless” into my soul. Constant comparisons solidified a sense of inferiority. The consequences of choices—both mine and others’—fueled a cycle of inaction and self-doubt. These wounds left jagged scars, each one a reminder of pain and brokenness.  

We all carry scars. Some are etched into our bodies, visible reminders of birth differences, accidents, illnesses, or surgeries. Others are hidden deep within, left by heartbreak, unmet expectations, rejection, or loss. These scars shape how we see ourselves and relate to others. They can make us feel unworthy, isolated, even forgotten. Mine made me feel unlovable and unwelcomed, dismissible. 

But the truth is, rather than being symbols of shame, sorrow, and loss, our scars are blank pages upon which God writes His redemption. The very places where we feel most broken are the spaces where Jesus meets us and makes us whole. As Russell Joyce wrote in his book, His Face Like Mine: Finding God’s Love in Our Wounds, Jesus doesn’t love us despite our scars—He loves us through them. God doesn’t avoid our scars. He meets us right there, in the mess of it all, doing His best work in our worst moments. 

Jesus, the Wound Carrier 

Jesus intimately understands what it means to carry scars. He endured emotional wounds—the betrayal of those closest to Him, the sting of rejection by His own people, and the soul-crushing agony of feeling abandoned by the Father (Matthew 26:56; Isaiah 53:3; Matthew 27:46). His body bore the marks of physical suffering—the nails and spear—scars that, though brutal in their origin, remained even after His resurrection (John 20:27). These marks of suffering weren’t erased when He rose again; instead, they were transformed.  

When Jesus appeared to His disciples after the resurrection, He showed them His scars, not as signs of defeat or shame, but as proof of His love and victory. His scars told the story of the depths to which God’s love would go to redeem us, offering a glimpse of the powerful truth that nothing—no hurt, no wound—is beyond His healing reach. Nothing is wasted. In His scars, we see the story of who He is: the Risen Savior, King, Lord, and God, the Son, seated at the right hand of the Father. 

What if we could see our own scars through the same lens? Jesus doesn’t look at our wounds with disdain. He invites us to bring our scars to Him—not to erase them but to liberate us through them. He longs to take the broken, wounded parts of our identity and change them into something beautiful that testifies to His power, grace, and restoration. Just as His scars proclaim His identity, when we surrender our wounds to Him, our scars can proclaim ours: beloved, redeemed, valued, and whole. 

From Pieces to Masterpieces 

Inviting Jesus into our broken places is stepping into a journey of renewal where He begins the beautiful work of redeeming the pieces to rebuild a masterpiece (Ephesians 2:10). He erases the original narrative and rewrites the story. Instead of being defined by woundedness, we are redefined by Jesus. 

Jesus redefines us through: 

• Scripture: God’s Word breathes hope into our pain. Verses like Psalm 34:18 remind us that even in our darkest moments, He is right there with us, drawing near. 

• Prayer: Honest, raw, open-hearted prayers create space for His healing presence to move in. 

• Community: God will use people around us to mirror His truth. Whether it’s a listening ear, an encouraging word, or shared wisdom, these small acts of kindness are often the balm our hearts desperately need (Galatians 6:2). 

Honestly, I hated the slow, distressing process. Facing the lies I had believed about myself and replacing them with the truth was emotionally exhausting. Loosening my death grip on the shame I used as a shield for years felt horrifically vulnerable.  Trusting God to use my scars for His glory stretched my patience. But it was worth every painful moment. 

The Story Scars Tell 

Whether emotional or physical, our scars tell the stories of victories earned, hardships endured, and restoration received. By the grace of God, you’re still standing. Scars tell stories of redemption: what was once a source of shame is now a reason to praise. Scars tell stories of connection: just as through His scars, Jesus sympathized with our weaknesses (Hebrews 4:15), our scars connect us to others on our same journey. Scars tell stories of adornment and hope by reminding us ultimate healing is on the way and that God’s grace will cover us until then. 

The more I surrendered my wounds to Jesus, the more at home I felt in my own skin. The more encouraged I became by my story woven into His. I stopped hiding, stopped striving, and started living in my identity in Christ. God sees me fully—scars and all—and loves me completely. God’s grace covers my past, present, and future. His word points me to His holiness and His thoughts about me. God paints my scars with His glory, magnifying His name, bringing hope to others, and making me beautiful through the brokenness.  

Scars may fade or remain, but they do not define you or me. Our scars are not the end of the story. They are not our shame; they are the beginning of redemption.  

Invited by His Scars 

The triumphant scars of Jesus make Him approachable—appealing. They persuade us of the great and terrible sacrifice He made for our salvation (1 Peter 2:24). They make it safe to place our own wounds under His scrutiny and endure the all-encompassing grief of uncovering and pulling up root issues. 

Whatever wounds you carry, know this: Jesus sees them. He doesn’t ask you to hide them or fix them. Jesus is waiting to meet you in your woundedness and reveal the prize behind the scars. 

May the One who bears the scars of love remind you that you are seen, known, and cherished beyond measure. 

—Written by Cheryl Shumake. Used by permission from the author.