The Pieces

I passed them every day on my morning run – broken beer bottles at the edge of the sidewalk.  Those pieces told a story, one I didn’t really care to know.

 

But they did often get me thinking.

 

Broken pieces.  Useless, thrown away, left without a purpose.

 

 

* * *

 

I remember standing in a room that smelled of fresh paint and caulk, my skirt stained and dusty, watching in fascination through the open doorway.  She knelt on the bathroom floor with a hammer, a chisel, and a stack of tiles.  One at a time, she’d put the tiles on the floor.  She’d tap them so they shattered into pieces, the sound echoing sharply through the empty room.  She’d scoop up the pieces, drop them in a bucket, and continue.

 

Why in the world?!  I thought.  The tiles are ruined!  What good are broken pieces like that?

 

Later I walked through some of the other dorms and saw the finished bathrooms.  Then I understood.

 

At one end of each bathroom, there was a sink.  The counter around it was covered with a beautiful mosaic – tile pieces and bits of colored glass.  Every sink was different.  I could imagine the hours that went into crafting each design.

 

There was a purpose in the breaking.

 

More than that, the brokenness became beautiful under a skillful hand.

 

I’ve often thought back to that little Bible school just South of the border – to the tiles and the chisel and how the Lord works in our lives.

 

We are broken.  We could be just a pile of useless, thrown-away fragments, but grace picks up the pieces and crafts an exquisite mosaic.

 

There is no need to hide, to despair, to attempt to glue ourselves back together.  We, shattered bits of human frailty, are being fashioned into His masterpiece.  No life is beyond the power of His redemption.

 

And the glory can be only His.