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She was just a girl, a teenager. Tears streamed down her face and her shoulders shook with the force of her sobbing. She was well and truly wrecked, as the full weight of her sin and what He did on the cross for her took hold for the very first time. She’d heard about Jesus all her life but only recently had she taken His sacrifice personally, chosen to take His yoke and follow Him. As the elements of communion passed from hand to hand down the aisle, she heard the words echoing in her mind, “This is My body, broken for you…” “This is my blood, shed for the redemption of sins…”
It was certainly not the last time this girl would be broken. There would be small cracks and huge shattering breaks to follow, and each time she would find herself huddled in a sodden heap at the foot of the only One with the power to heal her brokenness.
There’s a quote attributed to Ernest Hemingway that says the world will break everyone but some will become stronger in the broken places. I believe that’s true. I know it’s true about the girl in the beginning of this post. We all have scars from our healing – some hidden, some worn proudly for all to see – but they are shining reminders of how Christ has put all our broken pieces back together.
(Thanks for this prompt, for it sent me back in time 30 years to a time right around Easter, and reminded me where I came from. What a great time of year to relive my first Lord’s Supper!)