When I was three, I was in a car accident.  My dad, mom, baby brother and I were headed either to or from home during the holidays.  My parents told me that a semi truck knocked our car off the road, and it slid down an embankment, turned upside down and spun to a stop.  I still remember waking up to see the seat belts hanging from the ceiling, and a few moments between then and the hospital.  I had been cut over my left eye and received stitches.  I was the only one hurt in the accident, and they could only figure that it was caused by a plastic tape dispenser.

Over the years, people have asked me about that scar.  I have never minded telling the story because it’s such a cool story. God protected us that night.  I never really asked why I was the one with the scar because I’ve always felt lucky to have received it.  This scar means I get to tell the story.

I think we all deal with the question why bad things happen, especially within the Christian faith.  We think that if we live the right way, come from the right family, pray the right prayers, go to the right church, and be involved with the right things, that nothing bad will happen to us.  It’s not something we think consciously, but when something difficult does come our way, we start to search for answers as to what we may have done that caused this awful thing to happen or what we may do to prevent it happening again in the future.

But perhaps one reason we are given our struggles is so that we can tell our story.

In both of my miscarriages, I prayed that God would produce a miracle, that the sonograms would be wrong and the baby might live.  Surely, that kind of miracle could be used to glorify God.  But if we don’t go through the grief, how can we understand those that do?  After my first miscarriage, I understood a whole new world of women who have been silently grieving for decades.  Being open about my grief and loss allowed others to do the same which strengthened me with hope.  Why aren’t we sharing those stories more often?  Why do we think that having it all together is going to reach those who are falling apart?

We need to fall apart.  We need to have lives that aren’t all together.  We have been editing our lives for so long, and it’s pretty scary to live life unedited.  But see, when we edit our life, we are editing God as well.  God isn’t some pretty cross hanging on the wall of an immaculate home.  He’s a lot bigger and more unpredictable than that.  Sometimes I think we forget that our job here on earth is to point to God.  Not in some put together, simple wave in His direction, but in a desperate clinging to His side.

And you will be judged.  By other Christians, by people of the world.  Remember that Christ was judged with how he handled the Sabbath or who he hung out with.  But if we tell our story, share our struggle, really live in the communities God has given us, then I truly believe that God will take care of the rest.   God is going to use your words to reach that person who forgot that they still have value and worth, no matter what they have done or what they are going through.  Because no matter what society says about how we look or what we accomplish, that doesn’t dictate our worth.  Only God does, and He has given us great value.

That’s why I share my story.  This life is hard.  There are so many things on this earth that can wound us, physically and spiritually.  But God’s love can heal those wounds.  And the scars that remain are a reminder that we lived through it and overcame it.  It’s a reminder to share that story with others whose wounds are open, others searching for the healing balm to their pain.  Share the beautiful mess, the imperfect path, and the healing strength of a God that walks with us.