2017_09_26
My kids and I smile every time we see the commercial of the man whose new tattoo says, “No Regerts.”
I love tattoos and the stories behind them.
I met a young man who sports many tattoos. As we conversed over the ink talismans of faith and friendship, he turned suddenly bashful because of the word, beast, inked in large capital letters descending in a vertical font down his arm. “Yeah, I want to have that one removed,” he told me. He felt it was a poor decision and that it didn’t reflect who he was as a man of God and a soon-to-be-husband. “When I get the money saved, it’s gone.”
Touched by his humility and regret, I replied that all it needed was a period at the end. Then BEAST becomes “Be A St.” Why not Be A Saint? Or perhaps add an -AR; and Be A Star? After all, God’s not done with us. Jesus takes our mistakes and makes something beautiful out of them. As Edward Hays’ wise, story-telling dragon, Igor, teaches us, our scars glow.
We are people of the story. With or without tattoos we are, all of us, permanently marked by the events of our lives. We are each unique. Our scar tissue tells of the saga of our lives; the things we stood for, fought against, and the things we fell for. While we share so much in common, nobody else has had our experience of life. Nobody attaches quite the same meaning to every detail. However, we are enriched hearing one another’s perspective, interpretation of events, and viewpoints to understand our own.
Our stories overlap, compliment, and conflict. We do not experience this world, this life, this existence in isolation. We are constantly jostling into one another in our bodies; bodies which don’t end at skin-deep but reach out with our emotions, our prayers, and our striving intentions. Our physical brains are hard-wired to resist new facts and narratives that upset the half-truths we accept as reality. What happens when we invite God to transform the stories we want the whole world to know? What can we expect when Jesus changes the narrative of the stories we are ashamed of? If we wish to improve and tell the Lord, we can count on it happening in unexpected ways.
What happens when we find the courage to share and the stillness to listen to each other’s scar stories, particularly those whose life experiences frighten or challenge? The scars we wear, seen and unseen, remind us and reveal to the world where we’ve been, who we are, and whose we are. I know that by entering the story we continue to be transformed by each other, made more human and more humane in understanding and identity.
I don’t expect it to be easy. I’ll probably make mistakes and hurt myself and others along the way of seeking truth. but, hey, no regerts, right?
“No Regerts”
Living In The Shadow of The Church 