The Scar That Opened the Door

In 2018, a trauma surgeon named Dr. Liz Scarlett gave a talk at a medical conference in Nashville. She rolled up her sleeve and showed the audience a long scar running from her wrist to her elbow — the result of a car accident when she was nineteen. She told them that for years she hid it under long sleeves, ashamed of what it represented: a season of reckless living she wanted to forget.

Then one night in the ER, a teenage girl was brought in after a suicide attempt. The girl wouldn't speak to anyone — not the nurses, not the chaplain, not her own mother. Dr. Scarlett sat beside her, rolled up her sleeve, and simply said, "I have scars too." The girl looked at the mark, then looked at the doctor's face, and began to talk.

"My scars became the thing that opened a door no credentials could unlock," Dr. Scarlett told the audience. "Wholeness didn't come from hiding the wound. It came from showing it."

When the Risen Christ stood before Thomas, He did not appear with flawless, unmarked skin. He extended His hands and said, "Put your finger here." The Almighty chose to keep His scars — not because He had to, but because Thomas needed to see them. The wounds were not evidence of defeat. They were proof of love so complete it refuses to erase the cost. And when Thomas saw them, his doubt dissolved into the deepest confession in all of Scripture: "My Lord and my God."