A soul that’s splintered
I look at the pieces of my life. And I despair.
There’s harsh words spoken with which I broke relationships.
There’s secret sins that ripped apart trust.
Just when I think that there is no hope for the million scattered pieces – Jesus shows up.
And He picks up those tiny shattered soul-bits.
Those soul-bits – unlike me, Jesus doesn’t condemn them and throw them away in disgust.
No, Jesus takes His glue and He puts the pieces back together again.
The glue of His love, His forgiveness, His mercy.
The glue of Redemption holds me together and gives me hope for today and peace for the moment.
Jesus knows the price of this glue He uses to redeem me. He knows the stabbing pain of broken pieces.
After all, His body was broken for me. There on the cross where God looked away.
God looked away from His broken Son so that one day He could look at me in all my brokenness and glue my broken soul back together again.
Shoving and pushing
Smells of humanity wafting over her.
Disdain and rejection distancing her.
But yet she fought her way through that crowd just to touch a fringe of cloth.
His cloth. The cloth of the Healer. The One who doesn’t reject. The One who doesn’t disdain.
Murmurs of disgust from the crowd and exclamations of “how dare she” hissed all around her. Trying to discourage her courage, her passion for healing. Just a touch of His garment, that’s all she dared hope for.
“Who touched Me?” He asked.
“Oh no! How could He know?! Now I’m caught, now I’m going to be humiliated and berated!” She tries to melt back into the crowd at first but then, she catches a glimpse of His face.
That face that knows all, yet loves deeply.
That face that isn’t accusing but is genuinely desiring to know who had connection.
That face that seeks each pair of eyes in the crowd and intimately knows each one lost in that crowd.
A crowd of humanity with all their brokenness and all their diseases and yet a crowd who stirs in Him the deepest love one could ever hope for, the purest healing one could ever pray for, and the divinest intimacy one could ever dream of.
Five minute Friday with Lisa Jo Baker (http://lisajobaker.com/). The word for this week: Tree
And it always take me back to 5 year old me and my brand new bike. Without training wheels.
At the top of the big long hill……and a massive old tree in line with the bottom of that big hill.
Dad had just come home with my first new bike. I was like a kid on Christmas morning.
I was ready to strike out all on my own.
“Let go Dad!” my overconfident little self shouted. And off I went…
Down the hill……
In a straight trajectory toward our massive old maple tree
In my excitement, I forgot how to brake. I never thought of swerving. I was paralyzed with fear of the monstrous tree looming in my path.
I’m grown now. No longer quite as confident about taking on the world by myself like my 5 year old persona was.
But still I do the same thing – I tell God “Let go, I got this.” Only to head straight for that debilitating disaster in my path.
Like my dad, God stands watch but unlike my dad, God can catch me in time to rescue me from a bent frame. He’s ready to be my Brake, I just gotta shout out that I can’t do this on my own.
Don’t let go, God!
And like the song, I too had to tell my Daddy good-bye and tell him he can let go and leave this earth. This week two years ago, I let go of his hand. Death took him away from me.
And now I hang on tighter to God as I walk this valley of grief. He keeps me from crashing into the trees of cheated anger and bitter sorrow.
Picture credit: Google Images