FIX WHAT'S BROKEN

Fix What's Broken

Listen to Fix What's Broken, by - Cindy Sproles

Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life.

1 Timothy 1:15 & 16

There’s a swing in our front yard by the pond. Its frame resembles a child’s swing set, only this one is wood. When we purchased it, there was a canvas canopy that covered the seat. I’ve enjoyed that swing, the creaking sound it makes as it sways, lulls me into a peaceful rest.

Then we had a storm. The wind behaved like an angry child, slipping its arms beneath the canvas, lifting the swing and tossing it across the yard. The frame that held the canvas broke.

We retrieved the swing, placed it in its place of honor by the pond, and enjoyed it again. It was a little banged up, but still great for relaxing. Over time the weather took its toll on my swing. The canvas seat made it a prime target to be flipped and knocked by heavy winds. Still we kept picking it up and placing it by the pond.

Until the other day. A nasty storm brushed through, once more making the swing a target. We watched as the frame tipped and rolled breaking the supports that had withstood five years worth of weather. When the rain passed we made our trek to retrieve the chair. This time the legs dangled and the supports were split. There wasn’t much we could do. The swing was ruined.

I thought how much I resembled that swing, and at the times I’ve been tossed and broken, wounded—still Christ picks me up and places me back in a spot of honor. I am such a sinner, why would He bother? Christ loves me. He has immeasurable patience, and he continues to lift me from failure.

I walked outside yesterday and my husband had repaired my swing. He stood, hands on his hips, shaking his head. “I think it’s time to trash this one and get a new one – maybe something metal this time.” I smiled, walked over to my swing and ran my hand across the canvas seat. Then I sat. “Careful, it’s not sturdy.” Tim said.

Once again the swing swayed gently, and I lay across its seat, the world coming and going with each squeak of the ropes. Thank goodness for the redeeming love of the Master who picks me up, dusts me clean, and lets me swing. He never gives up on this sinner. How fortunate am I?