“Is it okay if it’s broken?” My car had fallen victim to the epic “Snowpocalypse,” also known as the “Great Dusting of 2014.” There I was, gleefully enjoying the glory of the inch of snow I’d waited three years for, when a dog, also relishing the wonderful phenomena, jaunted right in front of my car. I don’t think I would have been able to stop on a dry road, no less a snow covered one. It was him or me. So with a thud the poor pooch took a tumble courtesy of my front bumper. Fortunately, that large dog seemed to obtain only minor injuries. My front bumper, on the other hand, was not as hopeful of recovery – it sustained a nice long tear leaving a large chunk of plastic corner dragging pathetically.
I felt bad for the dog, and bad for my pocket book! I didn’t enjoy having to drive around with my ghetto-style, duck-taped front bumper mistakenly implying, “someone can’t drive.” Yet after finding out how much replacement would cost, I was ready to consider other options. Thus, there I was, super glue in one hand, gorilla tape in the other, attempting save my cash while hiding the bash. But in spite of my best I-have-no-idea-what-I’m-doing-but-I’m-doing-it-anyways efforts, I just couldn’t get it all the way “right.” Part of the crack wouldn’t go back in line fully for gluing. I got some glue smudges on the plastic. I couldn’t find a way to get the plastic vent cover in right without some tape on the outside. And though my repair actually held the cracked bumper together quite well, I couldn’t fully erase the scar of the damage.
That’s when that almost audible voice seemed to pierce through my fretting consciousness: “Is it okay if it’s broken?”
For a vessel made of dirt to let light shine out of it, it must have some cracks.
I froze. I knew instantly that this was about more than just the car. There I was, attempting to do to the car the same thing I do with my life. How many times in my life do I inherit a “scar” – whether through my own doing, something done to me, or just results of our messed up world, and I try to cover it. I try to fix it. I know I can’t fully make it right, but maybe I’ll at least be able to make it so people won’t be able to notice. I mean, I wouldn’t want people to think…. Being broken is one thing. But being visibly broken??
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Now I’m not saying that God can’t heal completely – the Bible is very clear that He can. And I’m not saying that God won’t give us victory over sin – I know that He does. But sometimes, on this side of heaven, there may still be scars. We may still be a little bit… broken. When Paul prayed about a certain weakness he had, all he got was “My grace is sufficient for you: for my strength is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9). If that weakness, that scar, that brokenness will bring God glory, am I willing to wear it? Paul also mentions that our treasure is in earthen vessels so people will know specifically that it’s God’s excellence, not ours (2 Cor. 4:7). And if you think about it, for a vessel made of dirt to let light shine out of it, it must have some cracks – some openings. Essentially, it has to be broken to fulfill its purpose.
So Michelle, is it okay if you’re broken? Is it okay if others can even see that you’re broken? Lord, help me to remember that it is.[/box_holder]