Scars of Ink

I have been thinking a lot lately about people with tattoos and here is what I decided: you people are very brave and very confident.

To know, with 100% certainty, just what you want, tattooed for all your earthly days, on your skin ..well, that takes some guts.

I sent a text over to a good friend who was considering getting a tattoo and asked her why she was hesitant. She said initially she was worried about what people would think and, after she got past that, she just wasn’t sure what her tattoo should say. Both very valid points to me.

Because, I mean, whatever you decide to get, there it is! On you, with you, a part of you for as long as you roam the earth! And the reason this was on my heart is because I recently stumbled again across the verse in Isaiah, about how God has engraved our names on His hands. An amazing thought, right? It kind of makes me want to ask the same question I would ask any friend who had gotten a tattoo, of God “Can I see it? What you wrote for me? On your palms?” Oh, that I could just have a glimpse of what God has engraved!

I am not so sure it will just be “Skye” with, like, a rose wrapped around it. As I thought about it, I became sure that it wouldn’t be.

I believe that the God who changed the name of Sarai to Sarah, and Simon to Peter, and Jacob to Isreal.. very likely has a new name for me too. I wish I could see it.

And I pray it isn’t the names I give myself.

There. Right there my friends? The down and dirty authentic truth. Where my heart has been this last week and, actually, far too often.

Those names I use for myself, oh my gosh, they must hurt the Lord very much. Especially when He looks down at His hands and sees the name He calls me, and how often I doubt it. God, help me in my disbelief.

So often I slip.
I remember who I was instead of who I am. I recall all of my mistakes and use them as identity. I limp beneath the burden of my past sins and forget the moments of saving grace from my Savior. I wrestle too often with labels like: Imperfect, Unworthy, Lesser, Used, Broken, Ugly, Useless, Scarred.

And I know it wounds the heart of God. And as I pray tonight, I have a vision of God holding out those hands to me anyway, and I feel as if He is saying “Stop! Stop! I love you!
It isn’t true. Those names. I am in you, how can ‘God’ and ‘Useless’ co-exist? They can’t! They don’t! I created the heavens, I created you. You are mine and through Me you are so much more than your mistakes, so much
more than your imperfections, and more than your scars.”

In this moment I know, if I could see what was engraved on His hands, if I were tracing the lines, the scars of ink, they would say my name. A special name, unique to me, given by Him..and also something else..
No, Not a rose, or a daisy chain, not a cross or a palm leaf.. but the end of a sentence. The part I need to cling to are the words engraved after my name.. “ mine. – God”

On Him, with Him, a part of Him for all eternity – my name, on His hands.

Healing and Held,
“See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands…” Isaiah 49:16

2 thoughts on “Scars of Ink

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