My head is sunburnt.
Serves me right. I got an almost-to-the-skin buzzing and then spent hours outside in the sun looking at antique cars and enjoying an arts and crafts show.
It’s not a bad burn — just enough to remind me it’s there if I scratch my head. Or put my sunglasses on. Or blink.
I’ve had a few bad sunburns in my life. One I shared a while back about my scalp being fried and my eyeballs turning red after walking for hours to get a battery for my car.
Another was on my honeymoon trip when I got married for the first time. Yes, I’m currently married to my second — and last — wife.
We were in Florida and spent probably 12 hours on the beach on day. I either didn’t apply good enough sunscreen, didn’t apply it well enough or didn’t apply it at all. I don’t recall.
What I do recall is being in a lot of pain and not being able to wear a shirt the next day. We visited with my wife’s grandmother on the way home and she got angry at me for getting a sunburn. I should have been more thoughtful and she didn’t want to hear a single word of complaint from me because I deserved what I got. I had not complained, so I’m not sure why she was so angry, but I’ll never forget that.
My wife bought a giant bottle of aloe vera gel and I coated myself with it. It was like Christmas — I was now red and green all over.
But I felt better.
The other time was when I was 18 and on a mission trip to Canada. On one of the nicest days that summer, the host family took me with them to a lake. It was overcast and a cool breeze was blowing so I didn’t think I needed sunscreen.
After three or more hours in the water and sun, we had a picnic and called it a day.
The next morning I woke up with large blisters covering my back and I was in a lot of pain. The pastor of the church I was working at dropped me off at the emergency room and told me to call him when I was done.
The ER doctor examined me, told me I had second degree burns covering my back and shoulders and that he was going to give me a shot for pain and inflammation. Then he asked me what happened.
I told him about our day at the lake. He didn’t believe me. “Try again,” he said.
What? I repeated what I’d told him, trying to remember everything we’d done.
“You didn’t get those blisters from sunburn,” he said. “It looks like someone poured a pot of boiling water down your back.”
I laughed and assured him no one had done this to me. I did it to myself by being foolish. He told me many of the blisters were the size of dollar coins and I’d have scars all over my back for the rest of my life, and possibly some permanent tissue damage. In any case, it would take a long recovery to get past this.
“Well, you’re 18 so I can’t report it to the police, but I don’t believe this was from sunburn,” he insisted.
I politely disagreed with him and left with my pain meds and topical ointment.
That night, members of the church gathered around me and laid their hands on my head and arms, careful to avoid injured skin. They took turns praying for me, that God would give me complete, quick healing.
I slept face down on towels, covered in ointment. The next morning all the blisters had burst and … well, it wasn’t pretty.
I took a very “soft” shower and prayed for the best.
The very next day — three days after the sun tried to kill me and two days after believers prayed for me — I woke up with healed, healthy skin. I’ve never had a scar nor any other issue from that damage.
When I think of miracles, I don’t usually think of this event in my life. But when I think of this event, I always think of miracles.
God healed me in a way that was not natural and I will always be grateful. I didn’t care about scars on my back — I’d never see them — but I was somewhat concerned about long-term damage and very much wanted to be freed from the pain.
I’ve seen some amazing things in my life so far, both in what God has done for me personally and for my family and friends. I’ve seen truly miraculous things.
God is forever good.
You know that spot right between your ears and your head? That “line” where they connect? You know, where the barber used to nick you with a straight razor. Every. Single. Time. And then splash that aftershave stuff on you. What was that stuff? Smelled like mint and … ahem.
That spot. It’s burnt on both sides of my head and it is a persistent reminder to me today of my tomato-like head today.
But every time today that I wince when I scratch or put on/take off my glasses or breathe, I’ll be reminded of how God has healed me in the past. This minor inconvenience will serve as a reminder that God is merciful. God is good. And he has never changed.
