The following is a sample from Rich Wounds by David Mathis. Learn more here about the book, full of profound reflections on the cross that help you to meditate on and marvel at the sacrificial love of Jesus.
“Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.” – John 20:27
We know precious few details about Jesus’ resurrection body.
It was the same body in which he died, and yet it was not only restored to life but changed. He was still human, but now glorified. What was sown perishable was raised imperishable (1 Corinthians 15:42). He could pass through doors and walls (John 20:26), yet ate solid food (Luke 24:42-43).
His “natural body,” which died at Calvary, was raised and transformed into a “spiritual body” (1 Corinthians 15:44), new enough that those who knew him best didn’t recognize him at first (Luke 24:16, 37; John 20:14; 21:4), but also, soon enough, knew it was indeed him (Luke 24:31; John 20:16, 20; 21:7).
Among the fascinating few details we have, one of the most intriguing is his scars.
The scars were the main way he confirmed to his disciples that it was truly him, in the same physical body, now risen and transformed. When Jesus first appeared to them, according to Luke, “they were startled and frightened and thought they saw a spirit” (Luke 24:37). Then he showed them the scars.
“‘See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.’ And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet” (Luke 24:39-40).
We might expect that the Father would choose to remove the scars from his Son’s eternal glorified flesh; but scars were God’s idea to begin with.
The apostle John reports that Jesus “showed them his hands and his side” (John 20:20) and includes the account of doubting Thomas, who “was not with them when Jesus came” (v 24). Thomas insisted that he see Jesus’ scars for himself, to confirm it was in fact him. In divine patience, Jesus waited eight long days to answer Thomas’s prayer; when he finally visited, he offered him the scars. “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe” (v 27).
If Luke and John hadn’t told us about the scars, we might assume that a glorified, resurrected body wouldn’t have any.
At first thought, scars seem like a surprising feature for perfected, new-world humanity. In fact, they might sound like a defect. Would we not expect that such an upgrade—from a perishable body designed for this world to an imperishable body designed for the next—would mean Jesus would no longer bear the marks of his suffering in this world?
We might expect that the Father would choose to remove the scars from his Son’s eternal glorified flesh; but scars were God’s idea to begin with. He made human skin to heal like this from significant injury. Some of our scars carry little meaning, but some have a lot to say, whether to our shame or to our honor.
That Luke and John testify so plainly to Jesus’ resurrection scars must mean they are not a defect but a glory. What is the treasure that awaits us for all eternity in the visible, glorious scars of Christ?
First, Jesus’ scars tell us that he knows our pain. He became fully human, “made like [us] in every respect” (Hebrews 2:17), so that he could suffer with us and for us as he carried our human sins to die in our place. His scars remind us that he knows human pain—and to the uttermost.
Pastor and poet Edward Shillito (1872–1948), who witnessed the horrors of World War I, found comfort in the “Jesus of the Scars,” who knew what it was like to suffer in human flesh:
The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;
In all the universe we have no place.
Our wounds are hurting us; where is the balm?
Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars, we claim Thy grace.
Because he chose to suffer for us, Jesus’ scars also tell us of his love, and his Father’s. “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). Hymn-writer Matthew Bridges saw love in the scars and crowned him “the Lord of love” in his 1851 hymn:
Crown him the Lord of love!
Behold his hands and side—
Rich wounds, yet visible above,
In beauty glorified.
They are indeed rich wounds: scars that radiate glory, marks that demonstrate love, blemishes that were once the site of his agony and are now the balm for our healing. We marvel at his rich wounds, now the occasion for our admiration and praise.
Finally, Jesus’ scars—as healed wounds—forever tell us of our final victory in him. As the book of Revelation unfolds to us that ultimate triumph, it is our scarred Savior—the Lamb who was slain—who stands at the center of heaven and sits, with his Father, on the very throne of the universe (Revelation 7:9-10, 17; 22:1, 3).
From that first introduction as “a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain” (5:6), Jesus is referred to 27 more times as “the Lamb.” Heaven’s worshipers fall down before him, saying, “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain!” (v 12), and the book of life is said to be “the book of life of the Lamb who was slain” (13:8).
Far from forgetting his suffering and shed blood, it is a glory beyond compare that his people forever celebrate him as the Lamb who was slain, the Shepherd with the scars— in whose blood we have been washed (7:14), and by whose blood, once shed through his still-visible scars, we have conquered (12:11).
We will worship him forever with the beauty of his scars in view. They are no defect to the eyes of the redeemed but a glory beyond compare.
David Mathis serves as Executive Editor at desiringGod.org, Pastor at Cities Church, and Adjunct Professor at Bethlehem College and Seminary. He and his wife, Megan, have four children.
