“Patiently (pain) turns the charred icon of your falsity into the luminous icon of real presence.”  John O’Donahue

“Reach here with your finger and behold my hands; reach here with your hand and touch my side.”  Jesus to Thomas, John 20

After the resurrection the wounds remain.  Jesus invited Thomas to touch them, to see them for what they really were; not merely marks of pain and suffering, but signs of transformative glory.  The wounds of Jesus are a reminder that He was not merely the Suffering Servant, but the Triumphant Son!  His wounds became icons of His presence.

They can do the same for us.  During times of suffering, we are deeply wounded.  Sometimes these wounds are physical, sometimes emotional, sometimes mental, sometimes spiritual.  Sometimes all of the aforementioned combined.  O’Donahue, in “Eternal Echoes”, describes the process of transforming pain, which here he calls illness, into a companion.  “When suffering comes, the darkness has arrived.  The light is out. Even your faith falls away.  Illness is a terrible visitor.  Yet it seems that if we treat our illness as something external that has singled us out, and we battle and resist it, the illness will refuse to leave.  When we learn to see our illness as a companion or friend, it really does change the way the illness is present.  The illness changes from a horrible intruder to a companion who has something to teach us.”  He goes on to write the following description of how this transformation takes place.

“Th dark visitation of illness needs to be carefully encountered, otherwise the illness can become a permanent tenant.  There is perhaps a moment in every life that something dark comes along.  If we are not very careful to recognize its life-damaging potential before it grips us, it can hold us for the rest of our lives.  We can turn that wound into sorrow and forsakenness, a prison of crippled identity.  It is difficult to be objective and gracious about your wounds, because they can hurt and weep for years.  Yet wounds are not sent to make us small and frightened; they are sent to open us up and to help graciousness, compassion, and beauty root within us.  Wounds offer us unique gifts, but they demand a severe apprenticeship before the door of blessing opens.

After our resurrection from times when we’ve been wounded, times that seem like we’ve died, the scars remain!  But they also can and do serve a positive purpose for us, not only as reminders of the pain we’ve experienced, but more importantly the prison from which we’ve been set free.  Wounds need not become our wardens, but rather windows through which we fully gaze upon the Son!