He is the mender of things.
The frayed, torn and unraveled things. The shattered things. The things that cannot find their way back together. He mends them all.
We work so hard to hide the tattered, believing the lie that the hopeless really is without hope. I cannot believe that anymore. I cannot, because I have met him there, where all the pieces laid limp and stained in my hands…and I watched him reach for them, eyes full of more hope than I could catch in a lifetime.
Everyone has things that need mending.
The hope is that they can be mended. In a world that tells us broken is our destiny, He stands before us with scars on his wrists and feet, proving that broken things are meant to be mended. There is nothing in your life that is beyond mending.
As the crowd was pushing against Jesus with exclamations of his greatness, it was the tug of his hem in the dust at his feet that caught his heart. A woman knelt there, broken in body and spirit. Labeled by the law as unclean, the crowd also deemed her unworthy. Jesus, though. Jesus healed her broken body and then mended her spirit with the declaration of daughter. He gave her more than a new body that day. He gave her belonging.
Mender of the broken, defender of the weak. It is not something He attains to be, it is who He is.
A King deserves luxurious and lavish gifts, yet this King desires the broken, stained one as the most priceless of offerings.
What King is this, that he desires such a thing?
When the adulterous woman is thrown in the dirt at his feet and the crowd demands justice, His choice is to mend the stained one. Reaching down into the dirt, he lifts her up and asks, “Where are your accusers?” With one question, the only one who has the right to condemn, chooses to mend the frayed pieces of her soul.
He is a King who lifts the broken from the dirt at his feet, and mends their tattered pieces.
Hiding in the dark places is not our destiny. Exposure is our calling. When we step into the light of his grace, the broken pieces become the mosaic of his life breathing in us.
Barren becomes beautiful.
Silent becomes singing.
Fear becomes faith.
He only builds from among the ruins, and not one of us is without ruins. We can come into the light with our rubble, offer it to Him, and be enchanted by the discovery that in his hands the old and dirty become new.
He builds the broken into new.
I have seen this with my own eyes, have felt the touch of his hands on my own broken pieces. I speak from experience, not wishful thinking. When I stumbled to the dirt at his feet, shattered and tattered pieces in my hands, He reached down and pulled me up. He took my broken and mended it into something new.
I discovered the depths of his heart by letting him mend my own.
No need to hide, friend. No need to pretend. Broken is the path to whole. When we choose this path, we find that the frayed fabrics of our lives are woven into the tapestry of his story, and He makes them beautiful.
He’s roaming among us, today, seeking the broken one. Look up from the dirt and see him standing there before you.
because everyone has broken pieces…
and He is the mender of broken things.