Even Miracles Leave Scars

Sometimes the best things happen. The miraculous things.  Events that show the evidence of God's tender mercies. Curtain closed because when prayers are answered and lives saved, when a mother gets a new heart and goes back to her children, that is the end of the story. There can't be anything more to add to all the unimaginable good.

But even miracles leave scars.

And I know about miracles, and I know about scars. And the world does close the curtain after miracles. And life does seem to continue on the outside. Why wouldn't it be any different from what you see? If the miracle hadn't happened, then it would be just another part of life and death. If a person was a survivor of a tragedy, there might be some lasting damage. Some cracks on the surface. Some scars. Some need of a bandage here and there, a little help for the healing.

But the good? The miracle stuff? There's no healing needed there. No band aid on a brokenness. Good doesn't equal bad. It can't be bad. We were given so much. Our cup was overflowed with blessings so why does it now seem empty? Why has the miraculous become the limping mundane?

A couple weeks ago you might have read my post celebrating 18 years since my mom's heart transplant. That's big, and it's something to make us exceedingly joyful. There is nothing that can negate from God's immense love and provision for us through that time and continuing to today. But it's not perfect. Nothing will be perfect this side of heaven, and on this side of heaven, miracles leave scars.

I've told you about the miracle, but the scars? It's harder to talk about them because you're left with evidence of a seemingly cruel kindness, and God is never cruel. But you wonder about God's love all the same. Why, God? Why is it this way? Why does a nine-year-old turn into a teenager with depression who turns into a young woman who struggles with the fear of a returning depression all her life? Why does a three-year-old who remembers people's faces and sadness but no other emotions turn into a teenager with lack of confidence issues because she isn't brave and she should be braver. What is wrong with her? But her parents don't need two squeaky wheels and it isn't her mom's fault but maybe all the time she's just had anxiety disorder? Why? Why do miracles hurt? 

We got the heart, but what about the empty place at the table? What about the heart missing from someone else's life? Curtain closed. Don't look too closely or you'll see we're just threadbare in survival mode. 18 years and still in survival mode. Medications. Hospital stays. Emergency rooms. Fear. Wondering. Uncertainty.

Maybe these scars are here on our hearts so we might never forget it is by God's great love that we are not consumed. We can ask God to take them away. We can plead that He will, but sometimes His answer will be the same as the one He gave Paul - 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness'. We are crippled and so we cling. We are bruised so He can bind us up. Man of sorrows, what a name!