When I think of broken, I think of bread
Both the type we make or purchase from the store
And also the One Who made us and Who too was broken for us
The One Who declared and in the same breath issued an invitation
“This is My Body that was broken for you. Take, eat of it.”
I also think of glass, and hearts, and lives, and spirits.
Of friendships and relationships, and dreams.
And the song which speaks healing truth,
“The Potter wants to put you back together again.”
The Potter, the One Who is also the Bread Who was broken.
The One Who allowed Himself to be broken
He is also the One who repairs, makes new, makes whole what was broken.
O how good it is to know there is no restriction on what He can make whole
Because the breaking is sometimes due to my own carelessness
My devaluing of the sacred and the precious
O how good it is to know that repair does not require wealth
Nor fame, status or the like
Only brokenness and the willingness to be made whole
Thank You, Potter. Thank You.