For many years, I would run to be in shape—for my bodily health. As I've gotten older, and those extra pounds are harder to "run-off" so quickly, I realize that I keep running, mostly, for my mental health. That's curious to me. Running has always been something I've not excelled at. It was hard to be called "caboose" when your older brother was the star distance runner in high school and ran in college. Through it, I realized I ran, ultimately, for me, and it didn't matter where or when I "finished." There is only so much a watch can tell you; time and distance and metrics that don't ultimately matter. It's the metrics of the heart and soul that help us go the distance. So, I run for me. I run for my health, both bodily and mental, which is a way of saying, my whole self.
This Easter season (yes, it's still Easter!), it's good to remember that Jesus always showed up to the disciples with his scars—his hands and feet. They wanted to see them; it helped them know it was all real. The scars were part of the wholeness of Jesus, and they spoke to a wholeness the disciples, and we, seek. Our culture wants us to downplay, cover, disregard, or even be defined solely by the scars. But what Easter reminds us is that our health, our wholeness, our fullness of life, depends upon our scars being there and becoming sacred, revelatory to us. If we can't figure out a way to embrace this, we will surely push them away, onto others. This is what happens so often with unhealthy relationships, self-love, and even religion. Unresolved hurt and scars are often passed on to others. Let this season of Easter remind us that our scars speak something to us, invite us into the mystery of God, the mystery of one another, the beautiful mystery of ourselves—ultimately, so that we can love and be loved into new life. A life, where God happens, and has always been happening. Happy Easter, friends.
Nick
