For All the Broken Ones . . .

                    "Mommy, Mommy, its my turn to go with you!"  Olivia urgently reminds me.  We have started taking turns when we go to the beach.  One on one time with our children has become harder and harder to pull off these days.  They have figured out if they get up early enough we can more easily squeeze in a "date".    Josiah had already been beach combing earlier with Dad.  And now it was Olivia's turn.

                    So, we walk.  We gaze.  We let the morning sun warm our cheeks and feel the morning breeze chill our legs.  Fishermen are already out with a trusty herron or two alongside to cherry pick from their catch.  And we are searching.

                       "Ooooh, look at this one!  It looks like a heart!"  Olivia squeals with delight.

                       "Its broken though.  Try to look for the ones without the holes."  I reply, teaching her from years of experience in the craft of shell searching.

                       "But I like it." Olivia responds with disappointment.

                       Okay, you can't argue with that, can you?

                        "Okay put it in your bag." I reply.


              Over and over again, she is drawn to the broken ones.  I patiently point out the flaws and she tells me about the beautiful eye-popping colors and the redemptive new shape she sees formed by broken edges.   And I realize its much like God with us.  We can't impress Him with our flawlessness.  He is drawn to our broken edges. He takes delight in our unique bold colors and non-uniform shapes. He isn't afraid of our brokenness, but rather drawn to it.  He dwells with the broken and brings redemption to our flaws (Psalm 51:17).  He takes what another calls broken and calls it beautiful, just like Olivia was doing this morning with her tiny treasures.

             
                          The sea is calm today.  I remember the Sea of Glass that The Good Book says surrounds His Throne.  It stretches for miles, and I try to picture a Man in the middle and multitudes leaning in for a glance.

                 A thought stirs inside that forms a knot in my throat and causes my eyes to water.  Not only does He know the grains of sand on the seashore-every single one.  But, He also knows the shells, every single one.  Every single flawless one.  Every single broken one.  Even every single shell my Olivia would find today.  He knows it all.  He is God over the vast, endless spaces and God over the broken, tiny particles of sand.  He is God over the countless miles of horizon and He knows each brightly colored  shell along our path.   This One, He is unsearchable, and yet He has invited us to search Him out.