My new orthopedic doctor looked puzzled as he examined the X-rays of my knee and leg. It had been 37 years since the grenade exploded at my feet, leaving me scarred over most of my body and without a kneecap. He delivered the news that I would need to have surgery on my knee. With all the concern I could muster (with a straight face), I said, “Doc, will it leave a scar?”

Yeah, I may be old, but I still have my sense of humor. The doctor didn’t know what to say until I smiled and he realized I was kidding. After surgery, while in recovery, the doctor brought me a bottle with shrapnel he’d removed from my knee. I thanked him, but I already had enough souvenirs of that event!

I have grown so accustomed to my scars that I don’t even notice them. Others do, but they are a reality I learned to live with many years ago. But I have to admit, it was a process. Although I had four plastic surgery operations on my face to minimize the scarring, when I shaved every morning, I still saw the wounds because of the self-loathing I suffered from. But, by God’s grace, that only lasted four and a half years because I encountered unconditional love in the person of Jesus Christ.

During our 40 years of ministry at Teen Challenge, a faith-based program for young adults and adults with life-controlling addictions, and my years of ministering to veterans, I’ve encountered many wounded and scarred people. Some scars are very visible, like the many grievously wounded veterans who have been injured in our Global War on Terror. Others are the victims of our culture war whose scars are hidden deep within their soul. Both have been scarred by their experiences.

My physical wounds healed quickly. I left the hospital after only nine months. The scars were very visible at first, but I did my best to cover them. I went to work as a criminal investigator, so wearing a coat and tie made them invisible to everyone but me. Scars are where there was once a wound, but the wound has healed. There’s no longer pain where the scar remains. But memories, that’s another matter entirely. The memories, or nightmares, of my experience lasted much longer. But God’s grace and mercy was greater than my pain.

Today, a person doesn’t have to go to Vietnam, Iraq, or Afghanistan to be wounded. Our culture is designed to wound people. When we come to the place where a majority of Americans have no problem killing an unborn child right up to the moment of birth, we have clearly devalued life. From that slippery slope, it’s not a stretch to approve eliminating those around us who have no “quality of life” such as Down syndrome children or the aged, infirmed, or terminally ill. Who decides what another person’s “quality of life” looks like?

We, as a nation of free people, at least for now, need to take a stand for life. Remember our Founders who fought for “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” Do we still believe that, or do we just give it lip service? Is it too late for America to turn around? Next week we’ll consider what true healing looks like.

Something to pray about!
Semper Fidelis