The Mark:  My feet, ankles and wrists are cut up and scarred.  The arch of my foot is even bruised.  Parts of my calves are so banged up that they swell out from atop my sock line.  And the marks hurt.  But to tell you how I got these marks, I must let you in on a few details.

The Mission: 

 Build a raft, make it float, and get your entire team to the other side of the lake safely.  You can use any tools given and any resources you can find on our property.  Go.

 

With our axe, hatchet, machete and rope, my leadership training team got to business.  The men worked hard at chopping down some trees and the women came up with some strategies.  I mostly helped with a few small details along the way (and, of course, went to town with the axe when I could sneak it away from one of the men).  Our first raft looked a bit questionable, but we were in a competition with other teams, so we figured we'd give it a try.  It failed.  The first raft sunk to the bottom of the lake.  New strategy?  Find dead wood that would float better.  Attempt two?  Failed.  This raft floated until any body weight was put on it.  We then worked very hard to improve our raft, until the facilitator realized we were short on time and suggested that using the raft in whatever condition we had it, we could hop in and get across the lake.  First team to the other side won.

 

My first step in the lake was less than comfortable.  My legs were already severely scratched and wounded from some run-ins with branches and prickers; now they were sunk in a foot of red Georgia clay.  I expected the water to be cold, but it was beyond cold - I couldn't breathe for the first few seconds.  In order to fight our best, the remaining 6 members of my team jumped in on our "raft" (which only floated because we were holding it to keep it from sinking) and swam together across the lake.  With all this effort, you'd think we won.  (This is my team; I am the second in from the right.)

 

We didn't win.  My team hadn't created the best raft and hadn't completed the task first.  We couldn't even claim we'd accomplished our goal most gracefully.  But we did

finish.  And I have the scars to prove it.

 

The cut on my foot tells the tale of a mission fought with passion.  The bruise on my wrist reminds me of both the successes and the failures along the way in our rafting adventure.  Brambles left parallel wounds on my ankles, prompting me to reflect on my commitment to finishing the race.

 

I hope my life looks like this, evidence of a commitment to finish the race.  I want to speak as Timothy did, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." (II Timothy 4:7)  But some days, I grow weary.  If you'd ask me, I'd tell you how desperately I want my life to count, how deeply I want to run after God with passion.  But if I were being completely honest, I often wonder if I have what it takes to finish this life well.  I know that along the way, I've incurred wounds that speak of the steps I've already taken, the places I've already slipped and fallen.  I have scars that remind me of where I've been hurt and where I've needed the hand of Jesus to touch me.  I suspect I'll get more scars as the days go on.  And I pray that these blemishes that I carry will serve as reminders to me and to those around me that I haven't walked a blameless life.  My figurative raft hasn't always floated and carried me.  But God has not abandoned me.  My marks are evidence of all that Jesus has saved me from. 

 

Do you want to see my scars?  Ask.  I'll share.  Where are your scars?  Do they point you to all that God has done for you?  Or do they remind your of your independence, your failures.  I am learning to run to Jesus more.  Will you join me?