Scarred by Sin

“He Himself bore our sins in His body on the cross, so that we might die to sin and live to righteousness; for by His wounds you were healed.” (1 Peter 2:24)

While vacationing several summers ago, I combed a southern California beach in search of interesting rocks and shells. Among other treasures, I picked up three sand dollars. The first of the round skeletal shells had a dime-size hole broken through the middle. The second shell also had a hole, but one that had broken through just the top layer of the sand dollar. The third sand dollar was still perfectly formed, unbroken.

I took my treasures back to my towel and pulled my sketchbook and pencils out of my beach bag. While I’m not a great artist, I do love drawing—I see things through the process that I’d never see otherwise. As I drew rough sketches of each sand dollar, I noticed that the two broken shells were more interesting than the perfect shell. Through the holes in the broken sand dollars I could see the interior of the shell where fine lines and membranes created beautiful patterns.

I smiled as I likened the sand dollars to people—it’s often those who’ve been broken by life’s circumstances that bear a unique inner beauty. I thought too that the perfect shell was a good representation of Christ—unbroken by sin, perfect. Often feeling broken myself, I thanked God for His encouragement through the shells I’d found. Perhaps my own brokenness would one day lead to an inner beauty as I walked obediently with my Heavenly Father and conformed more closely to the image of His Son.

At the end of the day I carefully wrapped the sand dollars in paper and tucked them into my pencil box for safekeeping.

Recently, I felt compelled to find those sand dollars. I was preparing to share my testimony with a large group of women at a women’s retreat. As I wrote out the thoughts I wanted to share, I became bogged down by the sins in my past—both my own sins and sins committed against me by others. Both triggered feelings of shame that I thought I’d allowed God’s soothing balm of grace to heal. Satan taunted me with feelings of inferiority and doubt. Who am I to share with these women? I wondered.

Then I remembered the sand dollars.

I found them exactly where I’d put them three years earlier—in my pencil box. I unwrapped the delicate shells and placed them on the countertop where I’d been working. I looked at the intricate design of each shell, although similar, each bore unique marks. I picked up the perfect shell, my icon of Christ, and noticed something I hadn’t seen before. While the shell was perfectly shaped and unbroken, it did bear deep grooves or scars around the outer edge—places, undoubtedly, where the sands of time had left their mark.

I held the scarred shell and waited for the lesson I felt the Holy Spirit weaving in my soul.  Within moments I understood. Who was I to stand before these women and share my story? I was a child of God, forgiven and cleansed by the blood of His Son. Although wounded by sin, I’m healing. The scars I bear testify to the glory of God’s saving grace through Jesus Christ.

Christ, although perfect, also bears scars— the scars of sin—our sins taken upon Himself as He hung on the cross. While Satan tempts us to believe that we’re broken beyond repair, or too broken to forgive, his gibes are pure deception. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life (John 3:16).

As I shared my testimony a few weeks later I prayed that the women to whom I spoke would see a unique inner beauty in me—the beauty of Christ shining through the brokenness of my life. And I prayed that they’d see my scars—the wounds of sin healed by the wounds Christ bore on my behalf.