Good morning…
I found this unique cross at Goodwill years back. It hangs on our bedroom wall, reminding me that our broken pieces are mended mysteriously by the grace of God. I have pointy pieces, shattered shards, childhood chips. So does everyone I love and everyone I sometimes hate. The question for each of us becomes, “How might I allow the cross of Christ to cement in me a new kind of beauty?”
Humbled. Healing. Held in harmony.
When I look at the photo above, I see the face of a dark-eyed child gently bandaged together in the center of the cross. As I zoom in, looking closer, I see that the person is made up of remnants of relationships, cracks in continuity, and damage on display. What looked pristine is no longer in tact. Life smashes all hopes for unscathed perfection. Individually and collectively, there are moments in life when our old form of happiness is broken apart and we need the LORD to pick up our pieces. Keeping what is essential to the core of our being, we are re-created into something more real, more reliant upon God, more responsive to the needs of others who are broken.
Allowing the living Christ to mend us into more is a complex, lifelong commitment. Patiently being patched together anew, our brokenness fits beautifully into God’s redeeming design. Leaving nothing essential behind, we are healed into an expanding wholeness. Oneness with God strengthens us softly in our broken places.
For we are His workmanship [His own master work, a work of art], created in Christ Jesus [reborn from above—spiritually transformed, renewed, ready to be used] for good works, which God prepared [for us] beforehand [taking paths which He set], so that we would walk in them [living the good life which He prearranged and made ready for us] (Ephesians 2:10, AMP).
…Sue…
P.S. Researching the concept of the art of mending, I ran into this interesting YouTube video. “The world breaks everyone,” writes Ernest Hemingway in A Farewell to Arms, “and afterward many are strong in the broken places.”
