A CUT ON MY FOREHEAD

My daughter Rachel taught me how to love.

I know that a dog is a man’s best friend but I never cared about them.

I mean…I don’t hurt them, kick them or eat them but I just didn’t feel like having them as pets.

Fish, yes. Turtles, I have but dogs?

Let me be frank. I love to play with them but I don’t like their pooh poohs and their pee…pees.

Guess what?

One day Rachel just brought home a puppy. I got so upset because she broke my rules. But the moment I saw that cute little white Japanese Spitz. I fell in love. And within one month’s time, we now have 1 Chow Chow, the Spitz and of course 3 Siberian Huskies.

One morning, I walked slowly to the cage where the youngest of all our dogs was staying. So engrossed was I with Georgia, (that’s the name of the youngest Huskie), I never noticed that there was a piece of extended GI sheet and it cut through my forehead.

Blood flowed. Not too serious because no sewing was required…but an ugly cut nevertheless and I had a whole week full of speaking engagements before me.

A cut! And now a scar.

It will be months before the scar go away. It’s not that bad.

You know what?

A lot of people carry scars through out their lives. The scars never left them.

Maybe some time in the past, something happened.

A piece of metal or a rock shattered your peace.

Maybe the rock hit in adolescence when your heart was broken.

Maybe you made it into adulthood before the window was cracked.

But then that piece of metal came.

Was it a phone call? “We have your daughter at the station. You’d better come

down.”

Was it a letter on the kitchen table?

The letter said, “I’ve left. Don’t try to reach me. Don’t try to call me. It’s over. I just don’t love you anymore.”

Was it a diagnosis from the doctor? “I’m afraid our news is not very good.”

Was it a letter from the government? “We regret to inform you that your son is missing in action.”

Whatever the rock or the piece of metal that was, the result was the same—a shattered piece and a broken heart.

The scar on my forehead is still visible. But a lot of scars in people’s lives cannot be seen but it’s there. The pain is not forgotten and the healing has not taken place.

And suddenly God was not so easy to see.

The moment the rock struck, the metal became a reference point for you. From then on, there was life before the pain and life after the pain. Before your pain, the view was clear; God seemed so near. After your pain, well, he was harder to see. He seemed a bit distant . . . harder to perceive. Your pain distorted the view—not eclipsed it, but distorted it.

I’ve got news for you.

Jesus is called the Healer. But you have to be willing to be healed.

Jesus is the Redeemer but you have to be willing to be forgiven.

Release the pain and let there be clarity of eyesight.

Let the vision see, nearer to God you will be.

When you can’t see him, trust him.

Jesus is closer than you’ve ever dreamed.

Your scars cannot be deeper than the ones He carried, on His hands and on His side.

C. S. Lewis says: “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

Question is: “Are you listening?”