Look At Me
Palm Sunday
Reflection By Amy Sander Montanez
Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.
- Kahlil Gibran
Scars. We all have them. Some are visible, like those on a dear friend’s body. We shared a hotel room on a recent trip, and one morning she came out of the shower smiling, unconcerned with modesty. “Look at me,” she said. “I am covered in scars. I see them as my survivor wounds.”
Her breast cancer had cost her a breast, and the scars around that site were obvious. There were more beneath her arm from lymph node removal, and a few lower in her stomach from other surgeries. And there she stood, gazing into the mirror with joy and pride—so comfortable in her own skin.
Years ago, I worked with a woman who had survived a fiery accident in her young life. After much time in a burn center and countless surgeries, her smile was slightly crooked but her spirit strong. One day, as we explored the effects of her trauma, she suddenly lifted her shirt and cried out, “Look at me!” again and again, until the words became sobs.
I did the only thing I could; I looked at her. Then I held her as she wept. I silently prayed over her—thanking God for her life, her courage, and the trust it took to be seen. I still hope I honored that sacred moment.
Invisible scars tell stories, too—scars from emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. Scars from neglect, bullying, or the loneliness of being different. Scars from betrayal, from bad decisions—our own and others’.
As a therapist and spiritual director, I believe our best chance for healing comes when we allow others to see our scars, both visible and hidden. In safe spaces, when we share the stories of our wounds and our efforts to heal, something within us softens. Acceptance grows. Our unhealed wounds become scars—marks of resilience and of the miraculous capacity of our bodies and souls to mend.
“Look at me,” we cry, in one way or another. See me. See my scars. Know my story.
We all know what’s coming this Holy Week. Jesus will be betrayed, denied, and crucified. He will bear nail holes in his hands and feet, wounds from the whip and the crown of thorns. I imagine he also carried emotional wounds to the cross. And when he rose, his scars remained—signs of both his true humanity and his divine wholeness.
Perhaps Jesus wanted to be seen with his wounds because he knew that seeing them could change us—that wounds and scars are not shameful, but sacred. I am still here, look at me. When we love deeply and live fully, we will be marked. And allowing others to see our scars is part of how we heal and become whole again.
Maybe that is what resurrection really looks like—being seen, scars and all, and still being loved.