I have pictures of my brain now. Not just MR Images or CT images but actual pictures of my brain as it was being relieved of an unwanted tumor. The neurosurgeon very kindly indulged our unusual request to take some pictures of the brain during surgery. If you can stomach looking at them, you're welcome to ask to see them. It's super cool, in my opinion. Fascinating, but also pretty gross. The point is, healing a disease like I have is a messy process. And so is redemption. There could be no healing without an incision, no treatment unless someone enters the wound to do battle with the intruder.  

     The surgery took place on Christmas Eve, and one of the thoughts that was sticking with me in the days leading up to my first time under the knife was that phrase "Entering the Wound." It just seemed so fitting that my surgery was taking place around Christmas, the time when we celebrate our Holy God taking on human flesh. And I kept meditating on how my surgery in a way illustrated the violent healing of what we celebrate at Christmas. The incarnation was the moment when God entered the wound of his good creation. A creation that was designed to be good but which was mortally damaged by sin. Ignoring the problem was not an option. My brain, intended to function a certain way, was mortally corrupted by something that doesn't belong in it. Ignoring it would only lead to total destruction.

     The only way to fix the problem was to cut open the flesh and enter the wound in order to deal with the intruder. That's exactly what God did in sending Jesus. Creation is mortally wounded; and the Son of God enters the wound in order to deal with sin. He did not stand far off and allow sin to complete its deadly agenda. Instead, he took on flesh himself, and all the pain and weakness and suffering that goes with human existence (Hebrews 2:14). He who knew no sin became sin for us (2 Corinthians 5:21). The babe in the manger is God entering the wound. The savior on the cross is God removing the sickness that infected his beloved creation. And the promise of Scripture is that we will see a day when that wound is healed forever and that sickness is no more (Revelation 21:4).

     It was not a neat and tidy process; and though sin has been defeated, full healing has not yet taken place. And so we wait. We wait upon a God who did not shy away from the messy work of redemption, trusting that he will complete what he has started (Philippians 1:6). In the meantime, we take time to pause and remember and celebrate the moment when God entered the wound to bring a healing that will someday be complete. Maybe that's why I wanted pictures of my surgery. To remember that this scar I now bear represents a moment of healing that I could not have done for myself.