A broken glass
Yet again, the dishes stacked up around the sink. Yet again, while cleaning the cereal bowls, food encrusted plates, and coffee mugs , I broke a glass. It was the second time within a week. I wasn't so annoyed or bothered as I could have been. I accepted the fact that my clumsy and sometimes careless self has a knack for hitting the counter at the wrong time and maybe even has a propensity for watching dishes fall to the floor. And I thought I could use the accident to let off some steam about how, though, yet again, I am the one who is washing other people's dishes. Maybe a thought or two crept in that said serves them right if I broke one of their glasses that they left for someone else to clean. But as I picked up the little bits and pieces of glass, I started thinking on a much more deeper, profound, redemptive level.
A broken glass is a great a metaphor for brokenness in our lives. Be it a broken relationship, an area of sin, or some conflict that wears heavy on the soul. Brokenness happens and shatters us, whether it is our fault or others or a result of the corrupted world we live in. How we react and what we do with the broken pieces, speaks to our faith in Christ. Do we understand what to do with broken glass, with a broken life? As I picked up the pieces, I fought the desire to just leave the glass shards on the floor. It's annoying to get out the broom or the wet dish towels to get all the little slivers from the cracks and crevices on our brick floor ( yes, we have a brick kitchen floor).
God has shown me a bit about how to react to brokenness. In sum, God picks us up and equips us as a people to deal with broken glass. He does not leave shards on the floor, nor should we.
Once, when I dropped a can of tomato sauce, I said to myself sarcastically, " Oh, what joy having children will be." Images of all sorts of spills and disgusting things I'd have to clean as a mother ran through my brain. In my imagination, there was a little person with big eyes watching my every move. Would I have a good attitude when I bent down to wipe it all up? Would I be thorough or cut corners like I wanted to? Would I scar the kid with sarcasm and anger and criticalness, just because I had had a bad day and the last thing I had wanted to do was to clean up something else?
I noted to myself in the midst of this daydream, 'you still need to grow up, Sarah,' as I forced myself to get every corner and sticky spot. I could not leave what I had spilled for my roommates to deal with and my parents were no where within the vicinity to encourage strains of spoiled brat dependency by doing it for me. My natural lazy tendency is to do a half-hearted job. It's a discipline for me to take care of my own messes. And through that discipline comes a reward of doing a job well.
That story is to say I think that is how we need to deal with messes in our lives. We have to come before God and ask him to clean every sticky corner and dirty crevice. With patience and diligence and God's help must we bring before Him these messes so that they are cleaned up. We accept responsibility for them, even if it's inconvenient, and do not leave them to grow mold and aqcuire other yuckiness.
Once reaction is to be grumpy about wiping up the red liquid mess from the floor (and where ever else it had splattered). As I work with kids, I am hyper-aware of how I react to situations and I even analyze those reactions. Everything an adult does, kids absorb like sponges; so little is lost on them. Because of this fact, I often rationalize everything I do in order to turn every moment of life into a teachable moment should it be necessary. So what would I teach a kid who saw me clean up tomato sauce grumbling to myself? Hmm, not things they would be allowed to mimic. They would be immediately reprimanded if they had a bad attitude about it.
Not to say I had a good attitude today with the glass, but I recovered quicker. I think part of growing up is learning to exhibit a certain patience and knowledge that I am the person to take care of the mess and it is my responsibility to do so with out begrudging it. It's not that big of a deal and I shouldn't throw a fit. So deja-vuing, I carefully bent down to pick up all the shards of this glass I broke this Saturday morning. Remembering is dangerous, once you start it snowballs. I then began to think to all the times I have broken things in my life, be it abstract or relational or myself, as a result of my own volition and sinful nature.
I thought to the many times I refused to pick up the shards of broken events. The times I refused to accept or acknowledge responsibilities and consequences of my sins and actions. A few of these times have stuck in my head. Times I broke a glass in my life and did not clean it up but left the slivers and shavings of glass on the floor. They stuck in my heart in deep places embedded themselves in with hurt and pain and wretchedness. I could get specific and probably name almost all the pieces of glass I've left there in my heart. It's only through the last couple years, when God's brought me through certain circumstances, has He removed them one by one, placed them before me, and thrown them out. It's been a slow, painful process. I feel like glass re-wounds as it is pulled out. Sometimes it takes awhile to heal properly. Muscles and tendons have to reorder themselves around the shards and they have to reorient to their intended places. There's a process to healing and after healing, there's still scar tissue to suffer.
So, as I picked up the broken glass and swept all the little bits in the dust pan, I asked myself why. What was so hard about cleaning up the broken pieces when they happened? Why haven't I dealt with my sins immediately? Wouldn't that be easier in the long run? Was it because I can have a begrudging attitude? These questions left me pondering.
By leaving brokenness on the floor of my heart, I most certainly left them there to penetrate more deeply and harmfully than I could have known. Also, those shards I refused to deal with hurt others. Why did I refuse to clean them up? By cleaning up, I imply repentance and turning to God to ask Him for grace. Why didn't I trust Him to right the situation, for the power of forgiving and being forgiving? (In the long run, I have, since they've been cleaned up, some of them at least). I am not sure why I ran away from brokenness. Lack of maturity is one reason. Maybe I didn't want to admit I messed up? Maybe I was in shock? Maybe I was still lost and didn't really truly grasp salvation? Human nature? Sin?
As I made sure I had gotten all of the broken pieces off my kitchen floor, I thought to the miraculous process it has been removing all the pieces of glass in my life. God confronted me in a lot of areas and forced me to see and acknowledge all the pieces that were ripping me up and destroying different parts of my heart and maybe my life in recent years. Am I the lost coin? Hopefully!
In the end, what I've learned is that I don't have to have a resentful attitude while repairing or dealing with the brokenness. I am hopeful and see the good in the process of "cleaning up." It is good to know God and to know that is what God does: repairs the brokenhearted. All things are for His glory. He is here to pick up our shattered pieces of iniquity and work with us to make us whole again. In fact, He probably takes us through such broken times in order to teach us more of His ways. So we will able to more fully know His love and and be able to embrace the life He has for us--broken glasses and all. Let's hope we have good attitudes about that!
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