Easter Hands

He kept the scars.

That is the detail that undoes me every time.

A resurrection body — glorious, transformed, capable of passing through walls and appearing in locked rooms — and He kept the scars.

Not hidden. Not healed smooth. Offered: Look at my hands.

The wounds became the proof. The suffering became the testimony. The broken place became the place of recognition.

And Thomas, who needed to touch what he had not seen, who would not believe a story that sounded too good — Thomasthrew himself forward: My Lord and my God.

Not despite the scars. Because of them.

What we carry from our hardest seasons is not a mark of our weakness. It may be the place where others finally believe.