Scars

I used to hide the scars.

I used to trace them with trembling fingers, wondering if they meant I was broken beyond repair. I didn’t want anyone to see the jagged edges, the faded remnants of pain etched into places no one was ever supposed to touch.

But now, I see differently.

Because even scars testify.

They don’t whisper of defeat. They sing of survival.

These marks are not signs of abandonment… but monuments of mercy. I should’ve bled out from some of the wounds I’ve carried. I should’ve lost my mind, my faith, my will. But here I am, still standing, still breathing, not untouched, but undeniably held.

Every scar is a healed place.

Once, it throbbed. Once, it bled.

Once, it begged for the pain to stop.

And now?

Now it tells a story of a God who never walked away.

They remind me: He didn’t always calm the storm, but He never left me in it alone.

There were nights I screamed into my pillow, thinking He was silent—when really, He was closer than my next breath, bottling every tear, marking every step, weaving healing into the agony I couldn’t yet understand.

Scars are sacred now.

They are the places where heaven touched the rawness of earth.

Where the enemy tried to bury me, but God chose to resurrect something deeper.

These scars preach louder than my victories ever could.

They say: “She’s been through fire. And the fire did not consume her.”

They say: “She walked through valleys with no roadmap, but she was guided by a Shepherd who knew every crevice.”

They say: “She cried herself to sleep, and woke up with new mercies.”

And above all, they declare:

“Her God is faithful. Still. Always.”

So if you see my scars, don’t feel sorry for me.

See the goodness of God.

See the faithfulness that refused to let go.

See the evidence that the wound was real—but so was the healing.

That the darkness was deep—but so was the grace.

That the pain ran wide—but so did the love.

I don’t glorify the trauma.

But I do glorify the Healer.

And as long as I live, I will say it with every scar:

He was there. He is good. And He never left me bleeding.