Where are your wounds?

Amber hugged her four-year-old son as she finished pulling his pajama top over his head. She never thought she could love someone so much. She remembered the pain his father caused her when she discovered all those business trips were not only for business. His infidelity left her inconsolable. Then, when she found herself pregnant she was confused and terrified.

Now, almost five years later, she pulled her son up on her lap to read him a bedtime story. It was a story about a young servant who fought valiantly to protect a princess while the prince stood by cowardly. When the battle ended, the King rejoiced as he embraced his rescued daughter. He rewarded the brave servant, but then turned to the prince and asked, “where are your wounds, was there nothing worth fighting for?”

As Amber tucked her son in bed the words of the story echoed in her mind. “Where are your wounds, was there nothing worth fighting for?” Something was worth fighting for in her own life. She too had wounds; wounds that came at the price of giving life to Sebastian, her beautiful little boy. As he gazed at her with his deep brown eyes, she knew he was a precious treasure worth fighting for.

During Christ’s passion, He received deep wounds in the battle between life and death. After the resurrection, Jesus appeared to the apostles and invited them to place their hands in his wounded hands and side. Spiritual writers remind us that in heaven we will easily recognize Jesus by His glorified wounds that shine brighter than the stars at night. They remind us that we are his prize and worth the fight. “For the sake of the joy that lay before Him, He endured the cross,” says St. Paul to the Hebrews. (Heb. 12:2). One of the deepest wounds Christ received, the one that confirmed His death, was His heart being pierced by a lance. As it was thrust through His heart ushering a flow of blood and water, the Church was born and we were given a path to eternal life.

As the Psalmist foreshadows the words of Christ, “My heart had expected reproach and misery and I looked for one that would grieve together with me, and there was none; and I sought one that would console me and I found none,” may we answer His cry and offer ourselves this Lent as a consolation and balm to His Heart. Let us unite our grief and sorrow to His Heart and trust that new life abounds in the mystery of the cross.

May we live as good servants of Life and may our wounds be a testament to the King of Kings.