Broken Church

1 04 2013

My son broke the church. I walked by the back door and saw the pieces of the small, decorative church building lying on the table. I was so surprised. We have had the little church for years. It sits in a convenient spot near our back door. We hang keys on the steeple, which I think is appropriate because being a part of the church is key to looking like Jesus.

I looked at the pieces for days. Seeing a broken church is somehow heart-wrenching for me. My husband watched me finger the cracks, and gently whispered, “I think it can be fixed.” Pulling out the supplies, he positioned the pieces back into place. He applied adhesive, pressure, and a little bit of ingenuity. Now the church sits back in its spot, keys dangling, giving me new reason to hope.

The almost invisible cracks in my little church make me smile now. They remind me of me. We all come to Christ broken, shattered, and damaged. Sin breaks us, splintering our souls, fragmenting our hearts, and wrecking our lives. We try anxiously to fix things ourselves. Our patchwork jobs would be comical, if they weren’t so desperate.

Jesus steps in, gently whispering, “I can fix that.” Putting our hearts in His hands, He applies blood, grace, love, and hope to the pieces. Soon, we begin to take new shape. Stronger, joyful, and radiating with peace, we join with others whose lives testify that broken people can be mended. We are the church.

My Jesus Resolution today is to be thankful for fix-it jobs. Psalm 147:3 says, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Today, I can take my broken pieces to God, trusting that He will put things back together in a way that will bring Him glory. Our scars are places that bear witness to the healing grace of Jesus. They tell a story about brokenness and redemption. The church is made up of broken people fixed by a Savior who offers hope to shattered hearts everywhere.


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2 04 2013
Oleta Coleman

Broken church. I couldn’t imagine where you w ere headed with that – but then as usual you took us right where we ‘broken ones’ needed to be. Thanks, Casandra.

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