Beautiful Scars

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

The scars of war, bear them with pride, like the stigmata

Picture this: Ann, a forty year old church leader in a billion dollar church establishment was holding a marriage seminar. In fact, she had ironed her brown, shiny suit quite well and it hugged her voluminous figure.

Turning up her collar, she went into the details of marriage and what to do when it fell apart. She was inviting spouses for one on one with her when a very thin woman in the large, white, marble floor, auditorium shot up.

"Yes." Said Ann, her eyes were on her notes.

The thin woman made her way, quickly to the microphone at the front.

"Are you married?"

"No." Ann shook her head quite vigorously, her Brazilian weave, flying all around.

"Have you ever been in a bad marriage?"

"No." Came Ann's answer again, she now, quite suddenly, studied her notes as if they were written in Latin.

Angrily, the thin lady burst out. "How then can you counsel us marrieds when you don't even know what it is like to be in a marriage?!"

The audience clapped thunderously.



Brenda was a thirty eight year old, overweight housewife in a dingy apartment of an old flat, that had greying walls, with five, hungry kids and no money. She had ugly lines under her eyes.

The steps came from the garage.

“You’re back early.”

Her husband dropped his gloves on the kitchen table.

“You don’t have you’re ring Julius?”

Julius threw himself in a wooden chair and studied the small kitchen and soot covered pans.

“So you’re still having that affair with that makeup sales girl? The one who marches around the whole neighbourhood knocking on doors?”

Julius reached for a beer from a blackened table and popped it open.

His wife faced the sink and hid the stream of tears from her eyes.

“Get dinner ready will you?”

She nodded.

“After that I want to tell you something.”

“You can tell me now Julius…”

“I want a divorce.”

That was three years ago. Brenda had fled before signing those damned divorce papers and she had entered the war room of prayer. One year ago. He had come knocking on the door.

He had thrown himself in her beige sofa and opened another beer. “I want us to work on our marriage.”

“Really, after you publicly embarrassed me with that affair you had with that college girl?”

Julius had shrugged.

She could not go through with this.

But the Lord had helped her with the true meaning of forgiveness. Now she stood at the podium and the crowd, crying and talking about perseverance and living with the person you hate and asking God to give you love for him. They were clapping thunderously.

Her tears were a sign of a battle, a sign of survival. So were her scars. The scars of survival, the will of the Lord for us to be tested so that we may ably help others.

The world is full of survivors who love to show off their scars. ‘I was abused at this age...’ it attracts a larger crowd. People love those scarred people for they can relate. If Joseph had not been sold, he would not have been able to help his family! Jesus suffered so that he could be a more fitting priest.

Therefore, her eyes had, stayed on the fire that cold evening, in the small, soot covered kitchen, once again thinking and welling up; she had known what it was not to have Julius in her life so she was not going to proudly reject him.

“They did it for evil but you meant it for good.”

“Go back!” Brenda announced to her audience. “Go back into the battlefield and fight. Do not faint on the battlefield.”

After you have been tested, your reward will come, your discipline will come and then you will know how to help others.

Submitted: October 09, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Kristan Kurora. All rights reserved.

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