This post on tattoos as a modern-day act of remembrance is part of on-going series of stories of God’s faithfulness in the lives of our members. At ECC, we believe that tattoos are permissible and a matter of Christian freedom that should be guided by biblical principles.

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In a world that constantly reinvents, redefines, cancels and forgets, tattoos dare to remember. Their permanence in our disposable culture is striking – a mark etched into skin when everything else feels fading. And while once considered fringe or rebellious, they’ve become surprisingly common, with nearly one in three Americans now bearing at least one.¹www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2023/08/15/32-of-americans-have-a-tattoo-including-22-who-have-more-than-one/

The artistry, the storytelling, the commitment of a tattoo has long enticed me. But not enough to take the leap again after a forgettable forget-me-not inked by a roommate during my junior year of college.

My son, Kade, now that’s a different story. One of his first letters he wrote home from boot camp declared that by the end of his Navy career, he’d be covered in ink. And he didn’t disappoint. Spontaneity fueled by desire meant that he’d frequently text a photo of his latest acquisition from the tattoo parlor while the ink was still damp. I’d respond immediately, “Oh, wow. What does it mean?” He’d laugh and say, “I just liked it.” With a smile I’d reply with the only thing that mattered: “I love YOU.”

 A knight in shining armor on his forearm? I love YOU.
 A dramatic Warhammer 40k emblem on his thigh? I love YOU.
 A two-headed eagle sprawled across his chest? I love YOU.

But it was the tattoos on his right hand that I truly held close: a boatswain’s mate anchor he earned through service, a simple cross that revealed quiet faith, and a swallow that marked his ocean miles. While home on leave, we’d sit hand-in-hand and I’d trace those marks. “What country were you in when you got it?” “Who was with you?” His ink spoke volumes and I cataloged the stories in my heart.

Grief Etched in Remembrance

When death robbed us of our firstborn son, Kade, the pain didn’t just reside in my soul – it settled in my bones, my breath, the rhythm of each day. I longed for a way to remember him, not just in thought, but in my flesh. Not because I feared I would forget, but because I ached for something visible to mark the grace that held me and the son who remained part of me.

It was here where I finally understood the desire for a tattoo. Not as a trend. Not on a whim. But as testimony. If my soul could bleed out an image onto my skin, it would be what an artist recently etched on the shoulder nearest my heart. Each element of the design telling a story – Kade’s and mine.
 
An anchor that grounded him at sea and me in hope.
A swallow in flight marking our separate journeys.
A cross proclaiming our shared faith.
Rope that binds with a strength even death cannot sever.
All nestled in roses – the promise of beauty born from pain.

The final piece is a work of art. But it isn’t merely decoration. It’s a declaration – an Ebenezer – a marker of grace in the midst of grief. One might even call it a modern altar of remembrance.

A Modern-Day Ebenezer

In Scripture, from Genesis to Revelation, God often calls His people to remember – not just mentally, but physically.

 “Set up twelve stones…” (Joshua 4)
 “Bind [these words] as a sign on your hand…” (Deuteronomy 6:8)
 “Take this bread and drink this cup…” (Luke 22:19–20)

These commands aren’t about sentimentality or display. They’re about covenant. About anchoring God’s promises in our daily rhythms and spaces so they shape the way we live.

When the Israelites crossed the Jordan River into the Promised Land, God commanded them to take twelve stones from the riverbed and stack them as a memorial. Why?

“So that when your children ask, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ you can tell them…” (Joshua 4:6–7)

God knew his people would forget about what He had done for them. He knew how easily human hearts drift, especially in seasons of sorrow or periods of prosperity. So He gave His people visible reminders that would stir memory and invite retelling of His faithfulness.

In Deuteronomy 6:5–9, as God reiterates the greatest commandment “love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might”, He tells His people to bind His words on their hands, to write them on their doorposts, even on their gates. The goal of this visible demonstration wasn’t about show, but saturation: a life immersed in remembrance of who God is and what He has done.

And when Jesus sat with His disciples the night before the cross, He gave them a meal. Bread to touch and to tear. Wine to sip and remember. “Do this in remembrance of Me.” (Luke 22:19)

What we call “The Lord’s Supper” is more than a symbol – it’s a sacrament, a means of grace by which God strengthens His people. And it echoes a biblical pattern: God inviting us into physical acts of remembrance.

As believers, we don’t trust in the symbols themselves. The stones, the bread, the wine – they have no power to save. Our confidence for salvation lies in Christ alone. But we recognize that visible reminders – rightly understood – can become Ebenezer stones, pointing not to ourselves but to the faithfulness of God.

Remembrance is not merely reflection, it’s a purposeful action. God’s people are called to remember His mighty acts, His steadfast love, His covenant faithfulness. This call is issued repeatedly throughout Scripture because we are so prone to forget. From Passover to the Lord’s Supper, from stacked stones to engraved tablets, physical acts and symbols are offered as a gift from the Lord given to anchor His promises in the hearts of His people.

Remembrance, then, is not sentimental nostalgia or mere tradition. It is a theological act – a reorientation of the soul around the truth of who God is and what He has done. A well-placed symbol, reminding the heart of what the mind might forget.

Could a tattoo, chosen with purpose and humility, be such a marker? A quiet but permanent reminder declaring “Thus far the Lord has helped me” (1 Samuel 7:12)

When Ink Becomes Testimony

I am not suggesting that tattoos are a command, that they make us more holy, or that every Christian should get a tattoo of remembrance. Tattoos are theologically and ideologically controversial and understandably, they’re not for everyone. But, fellow Christian, hear me out. Tattoos can carry a story – a testimony. And when that story points to God’s faithfulness, it becomes more than ink. It becomes witness.

For many believers, tattoos are stones of remembrance.
A cross that recalls Christ’s sacrifice for them.
A verse marking the truth that steadied a soul through battle.
A date in delicate script – honoring a child now held by Jesus.

And in a world aching for meaning, a tattoo may start a conversation that opens the door to the gospel. A stranger may ask, “What does that mean?” And you have the opportunity to say, “Let me tell you what God has done.”

Tattoos that reflect God’s faithfulness aren’t about the ink – they’re about the Author. A gospel-centered tattoo can be a meaningful and visible reminder of His grace, a quiet signpost pointing to Christ in a world that values the display of self-expression.

Let Me Tell You My Story

I never imagined grief would compel me to mark my skin. Yet here I am – bearing ink that tells my story.

A story of a boy I held, and the Savior who now holds him.
A story of the valley of the shadow of death, and the God who is walking me through it.
A story of tears yet falling – and the promise they’ll one day be wiped away.

The ink on my skin bears witness. Not just to love and loss,
But to resurrection hope.
To the day when death dies and those in Christ will rise.

My tattoo doesn’t bring Kade back. But it brings me to remembrance. To the Cross, to Christ, to our God who sees, who weeps, and who overcame the grave. To the One who gave me a son who loved tattoos – and now holds that son in everlasting light.

So when you see my tattoo – my Ebenezer – ask me the story. Not just mine, but His. The story of a Savior who meets us in our greatest need and whispers, “I love YOU!”  The author who writes each line with indelible grace – tender, unshakable, and sure. The Redeemer who conquers sin and death, offering us new life.

My story is still unfolding. Page after page remain held in nail-scarred hands that are both mighty and merciful. But I know how the story ends. And oh, how my heart longs for that final chapter. Come, Lord Jesus.

References

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  www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2023/08/15/32-of-americans-have-a-tattoo-including-22-who-have-more-than-one/