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Kyle West Story-Truth Project
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Dr. Del Tackett is the author, architect and teacher for Focus on the Family's The Truth Project, a nationwide initiative designed to bring the Christian worldview to the body of Christ.
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The Scars of Life
Posted on December 24, 2009
Filed Under Personal | 27 Comments
It wasn’t a very happy Christmas. At least as far as Michael was concerned. How could he be just a teenager and already dread Christmas so much? All of his friends seemed to find this time of year exciting. Mainly, he supposed, because of all the stuff they would find to be theirs on Christmas morning. For him, there wouldn’t be anything. Well, hardly anything. But that wasn’t the real reason. He just dreaded it. Something about Christmas gave him the creeps. Just like the hospital he was now sitting in. The lights seemed way too bright. And everything was just so…clinical. White tiled walls, white tiled floors, stainless steel railings, nurses in white, doctors in white…and the whole atmosphere was just…creepy. He wanted to run away. Maybe that is exactly what he would do. She’s dying anyway, he thought. Who really cares?
But something kept him there.
Michael lived in the city with his mother, a widow. However, there was something horribly different about this widow. She was severely disfigured in the face, arms and hands. Most of her fingers were reduced to one or two joints, or missing entirely. Michael was her only child. Every day, she toiled in a factory to provide the bare necessesities for the two of them. She had difficulty making her daily quotas because of her handicap—especially her hands. But she never complained, in fact she always openly rejoiced that she had such a good job that provided for her son and herself to live. She was a devoted follower of Jesus Christ, an example of unconditional love to everyone. But Michael, as he grew, became more and more ashamed of his mother. He would not bring his friends or his dates home. He did his best to keep her out of his public life. And he totally rejected the faith that she had and the characteristics that she carried.
But she never stopped loving him. In fact, that was why she was working late that Christmas Eve. She had asked, again, for more overtime. If she could just get a few more hours in, then she could make the extra money she needed to pay for the one gift she wanted to give Michael. It wasn’t much, she knew that. But she had been working extra long hours to save enough to make the last payment. The shop was going to close soon, and she was struggling to get this last item assembled. It wasn’t easy, but she was thankful for an employer who allowed her to work, even though it took her much longer to assemble an item compared to the others.
It wasn’t her haste that evening or anything that she did wrong. It just happened. Something in the machine broke and then it seemed everything came undone and metal parts started flying everywhere. The medics, when they arrived, didn’t know which was more horrifying, the fresh wounds or the old ones. By the time they reached the hospital, they were surprised she was still alive. She was moving in and out of consciousness, mumbling weakly to one of the paramedics, “Michael’s present! Michael’s present!”
When he got the call, Michael was with his girlfriend. How they found him, he never really figured out. “Your mom has been in a terrible accident and you better get to the hospital now!” There was an initial sense of panic and fear, then a kind of numbness as he rode the bus to the hospital. Now, as the hours droned on, it was more of a selfish feeling, wondering what would happen to him.
The Christmas ornaments and the blinking lights around the nurse’s station seemed so out place here. He couldn’t stand it any longer and he had just decided that he was going to leave when a familiar figure stepped off the elevator and stopped to talk to the head nurse.
His grandfather.
Michael really like him. He felt bad that after he had settled into his teenage “moodiness” he wouldn’t let his grandfather in anymore. They used to have a lot of fun together. A wave of guilt swept over him as his grandfather sat down next to him and put his arm around him. Michael wanted to give in and hug him, but that would have been some strange admission of being wrong for the last several years. So he remained stiff. His grandfather wasn’t pushy so he just gave him a quick squeeze, said “I’m sorry” and then pulled his arm back and sat silently next to him.
It dawned on Michael that he should be saying the same thing to his grandfather. After all, it was his daughter that was lying in the operating room down the hall—a daughter he fiercely loved. As long as Michael could remember, his grandfather had showed that over and over again—how much he cared for this terribly disfigured “baby girl” as he called her. Now, all of a sudden, he looked really old, sitting there with his farmer hands folded together. Michael wondered how in the world his old truck had made the trip into the city. He really should say something to him. But he didn’t. That would be…well, somehow out of character for him now. If he had just left earlier! Now he was stuck.
The silence seemed to last forever. And then Michael heard that familiar clearing of the throat and knew his grandfather was about to speak. He always did that before he wanted to say something important.
And now was no exception.
“Michael”, he said, “I am going to break a promise that I made to your mother many years ago. She had asked me to never tell you the story of how she became so disfigured. But because my daughter, your mother, may soon die, I feel that I must tell you this story. Your mother was burned in a tragic fire many years ago—actually 12 years ago this very night. That was when your father was alive and it was in that fire that he lost his life. It was Christmas Eve and there was a captivating fire in the fireplace. A little boy was playing there and suddenly pulled a burning stick out of the fire and began to swing it around to see the “rings” he could make in the air. Before his father could stop him, an ember fell on his hand and caused him to let go of the stick. It flew into the curtains and they quickly caught on fire. The flames were very close to the Christmas tree and in an instant, it virtually exploded into an inferno. The little boy ran into his room while his father desperately attempted to put out the flames. But, it was all in vain, for only a few seconds later, the fire engulfed the entire room. The last words your father said were: ‘Get the boy!’ Your mother ran into the little boy’s room and wrapped him in a thick blanket and then ran through the flaming house toward the front door. The blanket caught on fire and the flames began to eat her arms and hands and face. But she did not drop the precious life that she carried and by the time she reached the outside, her face was literally on fire. But, the boy was safe. Michael, that was you. You were that little boy. The scars your mother carries are the scars that gave you life.”
Well, a different kind of fire erupted inside Michael as his grandfather spoke. It made his face hot and his eyes began to burn. His throat seemed to begin to constrict into a convulsion that was going to strangle him if he didn’t let it go. When he did, it was like all the tight springs within him unwound at once and the heaviness that pressed down upon him like bricks fell away to the floor. It was a moment of surrender. He wept and wept…. and he began to pray…aloud, unashamed.
Praying for his mom, praying for forgiveness, praying for a miracle.
Well, Christmas is all about miracles. And a bunch of them happened that Christmas Eve in an old city hospital. Michael’s mother survived. The doctors could only shake their heads at what had happened.
And on Christmas morning, there was a great reunion: Michael and his now beautiful mother. You see, a greater miracle had occurred that night. It was the miracle of a new birth. Not the baby Jesus, but the new Michael. He was never again ashamed of her disfigured face. And her crippled hands became precious to him. He proudly introduced her as his “mom”.
And another thing, even more miraculous, Michael began to become just like her. The love she had for others became his love and the love she had for her Savior, became his deep love as well.
No one noticed the shopkeeper when he entered the room. He just stood there holding a gift. Michael’s mother finally saw him and then exclaimed, “Michael’s present! Oh, thank you!” He handed the gift to Michael, who then sadly turned to his mom and confessed that he had not gotten her anything. “Oh, no, my son!” she said. “You have given me the best present you could have possibly ever given me.” She then lifted a scarred arm and a deformed hand out to Michael. He reached out and took it and held it in his hands, caressed it softly and then kissed it. “I love you, Mom.”
Of all the gifts that can be given, true love is surely the greatest.
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Someday, by God’s Grace, I pray that we would come to realize just how precious the love and scars of Jesus really are. He endured the beating and scourging for us. And He willingly suffered the cross for our sake. His scars truly are the scars of life—eternal life.
That is why, on a Christmas many, many years ago, a baby was born in a manger—so that years later, he would become scarred for you and for me.
Christmas isn’t just about the cradle; it’s also about the cross.
And the love behind the scars.
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. Isa 53:5
A fictional Christmas story by Del Tackett
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27 Responses to “The Scars of Life”
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Great Story. It is always good to remember the whole Reason for this wonderful Season.
This is a beautiful story of sacraficial love that brought tears to my eyes. And so I must ask myself, why doesn’t the love and suffering of Christ also bring tears to my eyes? Do I need to hear it in a new way every day? Lord let it be so.
Thank you for posting this story.
Merry Christmas to you and yours Dr. Tackett!
Keep up the good work! May God bless your new venture with Coral Ridge Ministries.
I had knee surgery about seven weeks ago so I relate to your pain. I had a torn anterior cruciate ligament? and interior miniscus ligament? (spell check would be nice)from a basketball incident. I just turned 40 this year and for the first time in my life I kept hearing the absurd phrase “Well at your age…” from different medical professionals! Well PTL my PT said I recovered as fast as the typical high school students with the same type of surgery! (my PT is awesome)
A couple of weeks ago I met a 78 year old man who still plays basketball six times a week!! So play hard, work hard and love well!
Thanks for the heart-warming story. It would make a touching movie. Our family watched The Christmas Shoes last evening – could’ve cried a bucket of tears! Truly, love is what makes life most precious and worthwhile! Praise God for His most incredible Gift!!
New Years Blessing to One and ALL!
Deep within these Temple walls
a battle RAGES…..
The battle isn’t NEW…..
it spans ALL AGES…..
By a vast array of Motive,
we hide our inner being…..
how we dress…..
the Friends we Keep…..
we veil what You are seeing.
Pro 15:3 But the eyes of the LORD are in every place, beholding the evil and the Good.
Our Deepest Thoughts He’s Conscious of, we’re not misunderstood.
Pro 16:3 Let’s Commit our actions to the Lord, and pray He establish our thoughts,
Isa 32:17 His Righteousness will bring Peace through our behavior; making Quiet and Confident what was not!
I don’t have all the answers,
He’s the One that Knows,
but I Believe for Certain,
What God says Goes!!!
That is a great story. I’m wondering if it’s really true or not?
To who it may concern,
I am a 58 year old man and for the first time in my short life, I think I finally realize what Christ went through for us. He was the King of all Kings and he came to us as a humble servant. He put his self on a personal level that allowed us to associate with him even today! Had he came as the King he really was I don’t think I could have ever got this close to him. I searched for a long time to find a church that preached and lived the word of God. I have finally found it and what a difference it has made in my life.
Thanks to people like you who have shared there life experience with others for the sake of Chirst. I can now have eternal life. I was scared I would never find it.
Thank You Sincerely,
Mark
This story is so beautiful. It shows the importance of love. I just watched the last journey on the Truth Project #12. Our God is a God of love who cares about the needy, who sees no mere human, who wants us to love our neighbor, and live to help others. Thank you for the entire series, which has taught me so much and changed my life.
Wow . . . what else can one say.
Wow, this story was touching, especially for me, someone who i believe is able to relate to much of it, growing up fatherless (my dad passed away in a tragic accident a before my first birthday with my mother pregnant with their third child-my brother). I was the first-born son and got to see much of the pain my mother went through due to our disobedience (especially in the case of my sister, who left home in her teenage years) and the sacrifices she had made just in order to raise the three of us faithfully (she never got remarried). How much more, though, did Jesus Christ suffer in order that we may have life abundant. May we never take for granted his sacrifice, coming down to earth (cursed because of our disobedience) and being crucified for our salvation. Amen.
beautiful is the love of Christ and this shows the love a mother has for her child, how much more does Christ love us!!!
Powerful…this same love, the love which Christ has given me, and with which I love my 2 year old son is so precious. I don’t know if he’ll ever come to know Jesus as I do, but I will always love him, and sacrifice for him. Hopefully he will be able to love in the same way. Love, truely the gift of the Lord.
Another beautiful story that gives us a small insight into the love of Christ for us – thank you, Del! I pray that your celebration of Jesus’ birth will provide great joy for you throughout the coming year – God bless you!
(One of your students at the 8/21-22 training in Weston, FL)
Hebrews 12:2
(2) looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.
Most beautiful story ever read…Thank you for giving it to us..God bless you..
I took the class when our church first offered it. It helped me learn how our world was impacting the church.
Thank you so much for this beautiful story to remind us of Jesus!
Thank you for the wonderful story. I think its really easy to forget that “by His stripes, we are healed.” What unfathomable love, what unlimited kindness!
This story is a very good allegory of Jesus’ suffering while he was on the cross, away from His Father. Michael denied his separation from his mother and grandfather until he understood their love for him. They were only trying to protect him from the awful physical facts and denying him their spiritual love. He has a wise spiritual-understanding grandfather.
This story just renewed a love in my heart! A realization I have been going thru in the past month, that when you choose to love others, it comes with a price. It’s wonderful that Michael realized that his mother loved him so much to endure pain for so long to have a perfect baby! As for me, Christ endured so much that I may have an abundant life! His scars were because of me, he choose to die for me. He loved me that much! I am grateful for this story because its a daily reminder of how much Christ loves me. It’s more than a Christmas story.
It was and is a moving story with a strong message of love… however when one jumps from the cradle to the cross with so little regard for the life and teaching of Jesus, a lot of the gospel is lost.
Thanks for sharing. This brought tears to my eyes. Love is so powerful.
What a wonderful story, it touched my heart and has brought tears to my eyes. A reminder of how deep the fathers love is for each of his children.
Would all the world read this Christ-like LOVE and treat our fellowman accordingly. RubyG
A wonderful Story of Blessing and Love. What a
wonderfful world, if we could all let others see Jesus in us and in all we do.
Del:
Beautiful story. I think I read elsewhere that it isn’t a true one, or is it. I know of several incidences where this could be their story.
GOD is a GOD of miracles; at least they are miracles to us. They are easy for HIM. All too often though, these miracles are attributed to chance or fate. I personally have seen it too many times for it to be anything but GOD”S Grace, and truly MIRACLES.
makes me cry everytime…
Great story makes me cry