Hope in "Scarred For Life."

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to talk to a new friend, and we quickly opened up to one another about some of the similar issues that we've faced in our lives. We were sitting in the library, I was doodling in my blank sheet music notebook, and our conversation got deep- and quickly. I met this friend in one of my music classes, and I was immediately drawn to his sweet and beckoning personality, kind heart, and infectious attitude. He is the kind of person that asks the right questions. He is the sunshine-in-your-day kind of friend. He has been through much, has overcome much, and I respect him a whole lot.

We talked about bullying, school and learning disabilities, depression and self harm, drugs, friendship, loneliness, family dynamics... growing up. A lot of my frustration through all of these experiences comes down to people making assumptions about me: telling me who I am, that my feelings are illegitimate, assumptions that assign perfection to my life that is non-existent. I get put in boxes way too easily, and my response is always this: "How do you know that about me? Have you asked me? No. You don't know. I know you don't know." I think I hyper react in defense against people that try to wound me by saying my invisible bruises and scars are nothing. And this attitude from my peers and other friends that demean me, has created some serious walls. I have felt like an assumed standard. But God there is so much more to me than what meets the eye.

I was telling him about some of the things that I experienced last year at Chapman, and it really surprised him, and about 1/3 of the way through my story, he stopped me, and half-sarcastically said,

"How are you not scarred for life?"

I didn't know how to answer. What came out of my mouth was:

 "I... I am."

I am. I am scarred for life. What I have been through CANNOT and WILL NOT be undone. 

And there are days that that terrifies me. 

But somehow, in some twisted trick from God's brain, he is planning to use my scars to glorify him. I hate believing this, but I think he intended for me to go through the things I did. He needed me to. He needed my trauma for something. He saw and still sees a greater picture.
He is wanting and earnestly redeeming me, bathing me in a fire that rids of the impurities of these scars. He is so patient with me. He catches my back-step and gently places my foot back on the ground to surround me with grace in his promised land. He is healing my eyes to see him, teaching me how to see him in that room instead of my marred eyes that can only see the hurt. 

My favorite verse ever (probably) is Romans 8:28- "And we know that in ALL things, God works for the good of those who love him." My sister and I have mediated on this a lot and always remind ourselves, all means all. All means ALL.

All includes my year from Satan's hand, sitting in the barren wasteland, aching for life. All includes the trauma and panic and depression and tears and loneliness. All includes the poison, the memory, the sex, the sounds, the dead tree, the window paint, the shower.

God is bringing life into my scars. 

Yes, I am scarred for life. 
But I am also redeemed for life. 
REDEEMED for life. Redeemed for LIFE. Redeemed FOR life.

All means all.