There’s something about a scar that begs for a story.

When I see someone with an intriguing scar, I always want to know how they got it. It would be rude to ask, and so I don’t, but I keep hoping it will come up in conversation. I wonder what lesson is behind the stitches on the knee …what adventure brought the scar on the forehead…what happened right before the mark on the arm? Sometimes it’s a story of challenge and triumph. Other times it’s a painful reminder of a past hurt. But there’s always a story.

It intrigues me that, after his resurrection, Jesus could have come back without his scars, but he kept them. He could have appeared to his friends in his pre-death state, whole and shining with glory, but he chose to stay scarred. He picked this way of coming to the people he loves.

The peo…