How many times have I heard that coming from another room? Too many. My kids think I hide my handyman cape in my back pocket. They are always coming to me with the most broken saddest looking toys to be fixed.
Recently I asked the youngest, why do you play so hard with your toys? Why do you push the limit of their usability so aggressively? And with a twinkle in his eye, he looks at me says, 'cause I know you can fix them!
Wow, are you seeing the sermon here, guys? How many times do we push ourselves past the limit? How many times do we teeter on the edge of right and wrong so aggressively, because we rest on the fact God can fix me.
Truth is yes He can. But you know what, each time I fix a toy it weakens just a bit and it never really looks the same. Oh yeah, it will go a few more rounds of play; but it could have gone many more had it not been pushed and broken. If it wasn't weak from all it's fixes and scarred from all the extra stuff it took to put it back together.
How much more useful we could be for God, if we didn't need to keep being fixed. If we just stopped pushing past the limits. . . If we stayed on the right side, instead of teetering on the edge. How many more thing could we do, if we weren't weak and scarred from all our fixes.
God,
Thank you for being a God that specializes in fixes. But please allow me to be the kind of woman, who doesn't use that attribute of you to push my limits. May I strive to be the vessel you intended me to be. May I end this life with as few fixes, as possible.
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