Dauntless disciple

It’s January, in Ireland. That means two truths co-exist: it is cold and it is wet. As a general rule it helps to have windows on your house in this climate – preferably double or even triple glazed to keep the elements at bay. Our house has old double-glazed windows which allow a subtle draft of cold air to permeate most rooms. We have developed many strategies to fight the yearly cold spell such as keeping doors closed, strategically deploying draft excluders and the old favourite; extra layers of clothing! But, the crowning jewel of our fight against the cold is our triple glazed French doors which we installed in place of a window to the rear of our house. The plan being to gradually roll out new windows around the house (who knew windows were so expensive?). The new(ish) door is solid. So solid that my running joke has been “those doors are so thick they could keep Putin out”.

The door had the last laugh. This week, just when the weather turned particularly frosty one of the glass panes on the door spontaneously shattered into thousands of tiny pieces when our two-year-old tapped it with a plastic toy (many tears but no injuries). When the shock subsided, and we stopped repeating all too common Irish responses like “that’s mad” and “it just shattered. I can’t believe it just shattered”, many questions were asked to determine how this could have happened. Rest assured, we immediately exonerated our two-year-old of having any hand in this dramatic event (yes there is a pun there as her hand was literally involved but she is two and very sweet so she shall not be blamed). A quick Google search revealed it was likely an underlying fault, or tension or a hairline crack caused during installation or transportation (it involved a horse trailer, enough said). Whatever the cause, the result was clear to see: broken glass strewn across our dining room floor.

All that broken glass got me thinking. We too have an underlying fault, though we don’t like to admit it. Even the tone of those words sounds, well, broken. If you are anything like me, though we don’t like to admit it, we know deep down that we are faulty. The Bible affirms what we each sense to be true in Romans 3:23: “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God”. Our brokenness, namely our sin, causes untold damage in our own lives and the lives of those around us, and unlike my once seemingly impenetrable door, our sin is far more visible than we might think. Consider how we are so quick to notice the wrongs of others yet consider ourselves blameless. Ever wonder if people look at you the same way?

The door didn’t fix itself. My extremely handy, and ever sacrificial father-in-law came to the rescue. He didn’t have to, but chose to drive from another county to strip the door of its remaining shards of glass, making it safe for us and our young children.

Similar (though logically very different) to my door, we can’t fix ourselves. Sometimes it feels like we are only one small tap away from shattering into a thousand tiny pieces, either through the consequences of our own sin or the reality of living in a fallen World. Yet, in that brokenness here is the good news: Romans 3 doesn’t leave us broken and without hope. Having revealed our brokenness in v.23 we are given underserved but perfectly timed help in the very next verse “and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus”. The only way we are made right, justified, before God is by his gracious gift of redemption that came through Jesus.

I need to assess the other pane of glass on that door to make sure it too isn’t hiding an underlying fault (my father-in-law suggested a good kick as a baseline test), I don’t think any of us could take another shattered glass incident! Perhaps you would also do well to do your own assessment today, remembering the one who is ready to take care of all your brokenness.