God’s tattoo

From a distance, she was striking. Long brown hair and a winsome smile marked her. She was the kind that elicited jealous looks from from other girls and glances from passing boys. She handled the attention with style and grace.

Her table was ready and she sat down with her companion. Swinging off her coat onto the chair, she bared her shoulders. I was surprised to see that both of them were covered in elaborate, colorful tattoos. I tried to look away, but couldn’t. An intricate pattern of vines with faces of animals and symbols were woven into the design. It was quite amazing — yet disconcerting. She was so beautiful. Why mess that up?

People have their reasons. My Grandpa had a tattoo on his forearm, a remnant from his days with the merchant marines. Gang members use them to display their allegiance. Lovers commemorate their commitment. Some mark moments in their lives with ink such as a birth of a child or death of a loved one. I know Christians who have tattoos to display their faith, complete with images of Christ or Bible verses.

Call me a fuddy-duddy. Call me out of touch. Call me whatever, but I’ll never get a tattoo. If you choose to, that’s fine. But it’s not for me.

But I do have indelible ink on my heart. I have the deep marks of love that broke it. I have memories of people who have touched it. I have visions of places that moved it. 

And God put His law on my mind, and then “wrote it on my heart,” so I would never forget. And He gave the Comforter, to seal the deal, a sign of ownership.

 God’s tattoo on me.

Marked.

This encourages me to boldly go forth. I’m His and He is mine.

Joining up with Bonnie at Faith Barista in  “What encourages you.”

What do you think about tattoos? Has God left a mark in your life? Care to comment?