Scarred Hands, Straight Paths

Last week, as I was working on my sermon on Proverbs 3:5–6, my heart kept wandering to Psalm 23. Not because they are mirror texts—but because they issue the same invitation.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5–6)

“He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.” (Psalm 23:3)

Both proclaim this: the path of wisdom is not ultimately found through analysis, logic, or clarity—but through trust. Trust in the unsearchable wisdom, unwavering goodness, and unfailing presence of the Lord.

And both remind us who we are in this story: we are sheep.

We are sheep.

I don’t mean that in a cute, pastoral, stained-glass kind of way.
I mean—we are sheep.
We get anxious.
We wander off.
We don’t always know what’s best for us, even when it’s right in front of us.
And when life gets loud, we can forget what the Shepherd’s voice sounds like.

Jesus said in John 10:27,
“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”

That’s what we were created for: communion with Christ. Hearing His voice. Trusting His lead. Walking in step with His Spirit.

But if you’ve followed Jesus for more than a day, you know: the path of righteousness is not paved with ease. It winds through wilderness. It runs straight into valleys. It cuts through sorrow and uncertainty. And it leaves us—at times—scarred.

I carry a few myself.

Some are visible:
A scar from a life-saving surgery.
One from a moment with a knife that was far sharper than I realized.

But others are harder to show.

Scars from disappointment.
From fatigue so deep I didn’t know how to pray.
From trying to carry burdens God never asked me to hold.
From seasons of obedience that felt more like exile than peace.

They ache sometimes—quiet reminders of where I’ve been and what I’ve survived by grace.

And I imagine you’ve got some too.

Scars from grief that still steals your breath.
From sin that cost more than you thought it would.
From wounds others left.
From wounds you gave yourself.

But here’s the good news that brings tears to my eyes and strength to my steps:

The Good Shepherd has scars, too.

What does it mean that Jesus has scars?

It means the Eternal Word became flesh.
He became killable. Woundable. Piercable.
Not out of weakness, but infinite resolve.
Not as an accident, but as the mission.

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” (John 10:11)

He did not come to avoid suffering, but to absorb it.
He did not come to sidestep death, but to swallow it whole.

He was betrayed by a friend.
Abandoned by His own.
Stripped. Beaten. Mocked. Spat upon.
Spiked through the wrists and feet.
Lifted up, not in glory, but in agony.

Why?

Because you and I did not trust the Lord with all our hearts.
We leaned on our own understanding.
We acknowledged ourselves in all our ways.
And the path we made was not straight—but twisted in rebellion and sin.

The wages of that sin is death. And so the Shepherd laid Himself down—in our place.

Not just to give us guidance.
Not just to model sacrifice.
But to bear the wrath of God so we could be reconciled.

“He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His wounds we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)

And when He rose from the grave—radiant in victory—He kept the scars.

Why?

Because they are receipts.
Proof of purchase.
Divine declarations that it is finished.
That you are His.
That your debt is paid in full.
That no accusation will ever stick.
That no sin will ever separate.

In Revelation 5, the resurrected Christ is still “a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain.”
Even in glory, His scars preach the gospel.

So now when Proverbs 3 calls you to trust the Lord with all your heart, it is not calling you into blind obedience. It is not summoning you to close your eyes and hope for the best.

It is calling you to collapse into the arms of the One who has been crucified for your sin, raised for your justification, and enthroned for your peace.

It is calling you to trust the hands that were pierced.
To follow the voice that calmed the storm.
To yield to the wisdom that chose the cross.
To walk with the One who says: “I am the Way.”

So no—you don’t need a map.
You need a Man.
The God-Man.
Jesus Christ.

You don’t need perfect clarity.
You need scars that shout, “You are safe here. You are mine.”

You don’t need a five-year plan.
You need a Shepherd who leads with rod and staff, grace and truth.

And because of who He is, you can walk the P.A.T.H.—not as a formula, but as a posture of worship:
• Place your trust in the Lord. Not in yourself. Not in outcomes. But in the Sovereign Savior who bled for you.
• Abandon your leaning. Let go of self-reliance. Lay down your demand for clarity. Repent of your desire for control.
• Turn to Him in all your ways. Invite Him into every decision, every burden, every desire.
• Heed His voice. Follow His Word. Obey even when it costs. Because the Shepherd never leads astray.

And if your steps are slow?
If you walk with a limp?
If you are tired and unsure?

You are not alone.
The One walking with you still bears the scars that bought your redemption.

Trust Him.
Follow Him.
He knows the way.
He is the Way.