Scars in Heaven

As faith begins, faith lifts its eyes
just like a voice when a newborn cries.
As God asked Abram to count the stars
or Wise men come with their spice in jars
Faith rolls its bed, and cripples walk
as doubters stretch their necks and gawk
Faith has opened eyes once blind
and fills with light the heart and mind.

But what begins looking up at stars
in the end is marked with limps and scars;
as Jacob learned as he wrestled low
Saying to the Angel, he would not let go.
And what kind of faith has not survived this test
that made it better and left it blessed?

Christ himself for us was wounded sore
and is marked forever with the scars of war
as memorials made by spike and spear
speak volumes of what God’s love did here;
that all who see will not forget
what Jesus did to pay our debt.

Will memory in heaven be wiped away
of how Christ suffered that awful day?
What of Saints fed to hungry beasts
or burned on stakes by evil priests
will saints remember the chain, the prison
when the trumpet sounds and they are risen?


Will all that happened just pass away
as we behold or Lord one day?
But why the scars in heaven above?
A place of joy, of peace and love.
Will we look away or our eyes divert?
No. Scars help us remember,
while they no longer hurt. id