We sat together in silence on the porch swing, my feet dangling as he rocked us gently with his feet firmly planted on the deck."You have such pretty feet. So small and delicate," he broke the quiet.
"That's funny, I've never been particularly fond of my feet."
"Why not?" his level voice challenged my dismissal of his compliment.
"They have so many scars on them. I don't think that's very beautiful," I equaled his tone and our banter began.
The swing halted. "You know, the most beautiful Man in the universe has scars on his feet."
"Yeah, but at least the scars on His feet tell of a noble act. An act of love. All my scars can boast is foolishness and failure."
Silence settled over us as the swing commenced swaying again. I rested my back against the back of the swing, confident of my victory.
"Well. That may be true," he started once more. "But that's what makes the scars on his feet all the more beautiful."
"What do you mean?"
"His scars of love are permanent so that our scars of foolishness and failure don't have to be."
4 comments:
that is beautiful!
mm I think about that when I look at my surgical scars. Praise God our scars are temporary, that the memory of past pain and hurt they represent have no place in heaven.
Christ was treated as we deserve, that we might be treated as He deserves. He was condemned for our sins, in which He had no share, that we might be justified by His righteousness, in which we had no share. He suffered the death which was ours, that we might receive the life which was His. "With His stripes we are healed."--Desire of Ages, p.25
Lest anyone be confused... I made this up. It's fiction :)
yeah, I was wondering about that...
I like it too :)
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