And haven’t we all been the broken?

From my place in the back, I’m looking at them. I drink it in, this unlikely assembly. Old and young, black and white, from every walk of life, they’ve come. They, the broken, have come…

Here, to this place of beauty, they’ve come, seeking deliverance, repentance, a turning. God alone in Heaven above knew each one, knew the stories, the woundings. Knew it all. Yes, He, looking down, saw all of the ruin, the carnage and chaos of sin. Oh, He knew.

The music, it plays, and I cannot stop looking, eyes open, ears listening to Spirit. Here, hands are raised. Lips move, mouthing words. There, a head’s buried in hands.

My heart catches tight, lump squeezes in throat. In this room, the broken are bowing. For He’s come…

Oh, Father has come for ones such as these. The young man to my right, he’s the witness. My son, flesh and blood, our runner beloved. Dear prodigal, just home from far country.

Here, now, for by grace he has come. By mercy and grace, and those only.

In the still of the twilight, sun dipping toward west, there’s no room, there’s no place here for judging. For Jesus sought out the broken and messy.And haven’t we all been the broken?

Haven’t we all been bound in our sins, been lost and dead once to Christ? Haven’t we, too, been enslaved and near-strangled in chains of our personal choosing? To gossip and fear, to resentment and pride; you name it, and we’ve bowed the knee. But He’s come.

Holy Spirit, He’s speaking, and I’m listening, both ears. And then, all at once and unbidden, it swells. A low rumble rolls in peaceful tide ‘cross the room with the worshipful song that is playing.

“You’ve been good to me, good to me.” They, the broken, are singing. Eyes closed and hands raised, they are singing.

My heart, it sings, too. For He has been good; good to me, good to us and our son. In mercy and grace, Friend Jesus has come.

He’s come for us all, we, the broken.

Slipping you a quiet, little note to let you know that the column will be posted tomorrow. But this word, it’s too fresh, and it must come out. Praying grace for you, too…you, the broken.