Here I am, again, with the ever so familiar tear lingering between my eyelids; it refuses to surrender to gravity; it just sits there and sparkles. Sadness? How would I color it? Blue is classic for sadness but I do not see just any shade of blue; I am wearing a necklace of sapphire; so royal; so proud; so attractive; so untamed. Gems are more precious when they are raw and sadness is the gem I am wearing today - close to my heart.
This is how the story goes:
One day a little boy decided to go for a swim. He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore.
His father saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, he ran toward the water, yelling to his son as loudly as he could. Hearing his voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his father. It was too late. Just as he reached his father, the alligator reached him.
From the dock, the father grabbed his little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the father, but the father was much too passionate to let go. A farmer happened to drive by, heard his screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator. Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived.
His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his father's fingernails dug into his flesh in his effort to hang on to the son he loved.
The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, "But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Dad wouldn't let go."
We too have scars, too. No, not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But some wounds are because God has refused to let you go. In the midst of your struggle, He's been there holding on to you.
Sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations, not knowing what lies ahead. The swimming hole of life is filled with peril - and we forget that the enemy is waiting to attack. That's when the tug-of-war begins - and if you have the scars of God's love on your arms, be very, very grateful. He did not and will not ever let you go.
Never judge another person's scars, because you don't know how they got them.