I already had to bury my soccer stardom dreams after a couple knee injuries by the age of 14. Through the rest of high school and for most of my 20s, I pursued horseback riding and light jogs because that was all I could manage. Even so, I injured myself a few times more doing those activities, but I just wasn’t willing to give them up. I settled for pursuing any physical exercise as cautiously as I could. My performance got a little better once I discovered strength training at 25, but I still held myself back in fear of adding to the damage.
The closer I got to age 30, the weaker my knees got. One wrong step would leave me unable to walk for about a day. I became too unstable and fearful to keep going without seeking medical attention.
So now, at 31 years old, I sit here with two large scars on two knees from two major reconstructive surgeries.
Some people may flinch at my scars, but they are so beautiful to me. I can see my potential in them where I used to place my limits without them. My scarless legs never carried me well. They are a reminder of everything I couldn’t do.
With these scars, I have hope.
With these scars, I have stability.
With these scars, I have freedom.
I will be able to train for long distance runs again.
I will be able to swing my leg over a saddle and not think twice about it.
I will be able to chase a soccer ball in the yard with my son.
And what a great reminder this is to think of the scars Jesus bore for me. His scars of sacrifice gave me a life of freedom even greater.
With His scars, I am saved.
With His scars, I am forgiven.
With His scars, I have true hope.
By His wounds, I am healed.
“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.“