Alexandra liked her Grandpa Malchus now. He seemed somewhat kinder, gentler than before—and often lost in thought. It was then that she liked to tease him. Crawling up on his lap, she’d tickle him under the chin and behind his ears. His ears. Oh, yes, especially his ears.
“Grandpa,” Alexandra would say once she had his attention, “tell me again about your ear. How did you get that scar?”
“My dear child, I’ve told you so many times I think you should tell me.”
“Well, Grandpa, you said that one night you had to go with some soldiers to arrest Someone in a garden and one of His friends got mad or frightened or something and drew his sword and cut off your ear.”
Malchus gave a little grunt. “I think he was aiming for my head, but he wasn’t a very good swordsman.”
“But Grandpa, you have two ears. Tell me again what happened next.”
“It all took place so quickly that I hardly knew what had happened. I grasped my ear, and the Man told his friend to put away his sword. Then, He touched my ear and healed it.”
Malchus lifted his hand to touch his right ear as he had so many times since that night. He could feel the slight ridge of the scar. And he remembered the touch that healed him, too.
Again, he was lost in thought. What was it the Man had said? “Permit even this.” And something about drinking the cup His Father had given. Then, they led Him away. He’d heard that the Man’s friend was at his trial, but when questioned, denied he even knew Him.
Malchus had had a hard time piecing all this together with the words the Man’s friend spoke on the Day of Pentecost. But something—or perhaps it was Someone—told him that the Man, the Man Jesus was truly the Christ, and wanted to heal, not just his ear, but his soul as well. And believing, he was healed.
When Jesus heals, do the scars remain? What do you think?