One of my earliest memories on a motorized vehicle was when I was about 6 years old or so. My dad had found a mini-bike. Now for you folks not familiar with such things, a mini-bike is a small two-wheeled invention with a five horse or so motor mounted on it – no gears, just a throttle and a brake. This one was red and it had black handle grips and a black seat – the seat was a piece of plywood with 3″ foam on top and covered in black shag carpet – yeah, real shag baby. It was stylish.
The brake was a foot lever that when pushed would make a steel plate press against the tire – yep, that’s how you stopped (in theory anyway). My first time on that contraption was in the alley behind our house. Now a key point to the story comes at this point – at the west end of our alley was a street but at the east end, the alley made a T and there was a row of houses backed up to the alley, each with a back fence (you may be guessing what comes next but don’t get ahead of me).
My dad pull started the engine, I got on and away I went, straight down the alley. Things were progressing well until I realized I was going to have to slow down at the end of the alley. A minor point omitted to this point, and unbeknownst to me at the time, is that the throttle had a tendency to stick. I let off the throttle but nothing happened, I maintained my break-neck speed (probably about 20 miles per hour). I began to push the brake with my foot but it wasn’t helping.
I got to the end of the alley and went head-on into a fence. Oddly enough, that stopped me. I missed a telephone pole by inches so I walked away with only a deep scrape on my knee from glancing off the pole. But the fence didn’t fare so well – I had knocked it down. I am sure my dad spent the better part of a day repairing the fence so it was fine. But I was left with a fear of that mini-bike and a scar that I carried on my knee for years to come.
I quickly got over my fear, but the scar remained.
I am reminded today that we all have scars – all kinds of scars – physical, emotional and maybe even spiritual. But here is the challenge for today, don’t let the scars hold you back, use them to remind you of the lessons you learn along the journey – let those lessons make you stronger.
God wants to use all of you to make a difference – scars and all!
Clay in the Hands 
I am sure a lot of folks don’t go to church because they think Christians are perfect. (So not true, as you well know). But if we would be so bold to share our scars, physical, mental, spiritual, just think how we might impact a non-believer. I just want the non-believer to know that God will love them, no matter how ugly their life is. All they have to do is confess their sin and accept Him.
Bryan, thanks for your daily thought provoking blogs.