Every time I read this I am ashamed of how whiney I am.  I have nothing to complain about.  Even those things I beg God for which He does not give, are nothing.  The things He has taken away are inconsequential. 

No Scar?

by Amy Charmichael

Hast thou no scar?

No hidden scar on foot, or side, or hand?

I hear thee sung as mighty in the land;

I hear them hail thy bright, ascendant star.

Hast thou no scar?

Hast thou no wound?

Yet I was wounded by the archers; spent,

Leaned Me against a tree to die; and rent

By ravening beasts that compassed Me, I swooned.

Hast thou no wound?

No wound?  No scar?

Yet, as the Master shall the servant be,

And pierced are the feet that follow Me.

But thine are whole; can he have followed far

Who has no wound nor scar?

Lord Jesus, thank you for my scars . . . which remind me of your scars.  Mine are so small, yet they hurt so.  Yours are so incomprehensible to me.  Let no one hail me as mighty or bright, since it is only by your power that I do anything well.  Lord, I want you only as my Master; remind me of this when I face a new trial, that I might embrace the wound and treasure the scar.  Thank you that I am whole for now.  Thank you that my wholeness will not remain so as I travel through life, being conformed into your image.