Yesterday my husband dropped a plate he was planning to take to work on the cement garage floor. It shattered and pieces, large and small, went everywhere. The slivers were menacing and the shards were razor sharp. There was no way they were going back together and I wasn’t willing to tackle the care needed to even try. I swept them into the dust pan and carefully dumped them into the trash.
So, this morning I’m thinking about broken things. Broken relationships, broken hearts, broken bodies, broken psyches. Every one is painful. The jagged edges are both threatening and in need of tendercare mending. I am inclined toward just thinking they cannot be re-gathered. They will never be mended. The pieces are too far flung and no longer match-up. They will forever be hurtful scars.
Then the Lord reminded me of the table top my artistic adult children made for me. A bunch of broken tiles — re-shaped, re-designed, recovered – re-purposed.
It stuck me – with Jesus, nothing is lost, no brokenness cannot be healed.
“…in Him all things hold together.” Col. 1:17