"Where are your scars and how did you get them?"
Some years ago on a hot summer day in south Florida a little boy decided to swim behind his house. He flew into the water, not realizing that an alligator was swimming toward the shore. His mother saw the two as they got closer together. She ran toward the water, yelling to her son.
Hearing her voice, the little boy swam to his mother, but it was too late. Just as he reached her, the alligator reached him. From the dock, the mother grabbed her little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs. That began an incredible tug-of-war.
The little boy survived. The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pants. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, "But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Mom wouldn't let go."
You and I have scars, too—life scars. But some of those scars on your heart are because God refused to let you go.
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