Broken

    If it were in the human psyche to be resilient, we would not need Jesus to give us hope when we feel none. It is only in the arms of this spectacular man that I feel truly safe. There is disappointment in every other facet of life unless he goes before me. I never thought that this would be a truth that I would even come close to understanding. I have had an intense jealousy for people who have written books and hymns saying that Jesus is their all in all. How could he be? You cannot feel him, see him, or touch him; at least not in a physical sense. It is easy to feel completely dead-bust broken and torn down by the crap that happens in our every day lives. But it is from this broken place that I feel the love of Christ the most. I realize that Jesus is the only one capable of repairing the holes in my heart.

    A couple of weeks ago I went out and photographed deserted and broken down homesteads. I like the feeling of loss and emptiness that blows through the cracks in the wood. I listened closely to the whistle of the lonely wind. It was moving to hear it's ghostly sigh whispering down a lone chimney in a burned down house. While there, I got caught trespassing. The kind owner (who let me off the hook) told me that the once grand house had been built by his father for his second wife. I have a vague memory of it when it still stood about a decade ago. It was once proud but not now. It still overlooks a beautiful valley with cows and a river that runs through it. I asked him what had happened to the house and he alluded to a sordid past that may have involved some revenge from his father's first wife. Hmm... Why do people break things? If it is something good it is that much more susceptible to destruction. Houses are merely a representation for the folks that live inside. Why did this house break? Hatred probably.

 

    There was an old windmill that was hooked up to nothing. Most of the time they are a real source of wind power used to draw up water for cattle in the pasture. Not this one. It seemed to be only a sculpture representing the past. Now, not even whole, it crumbles as rust and strong winds beat it to the ground piece by piece. Oh God, life can be so hard when windmills fall and lives are blown to the four corners of the earth!

    Another empty old farm revealed this ghostly window. You can tell that the people who lived there were poor because they had layered plastic in the window to keep out the bitter winter cold. A stopgap measure at best, the only real solution was new windows that would have been tight and secure. But the borders of this house were left unsecured and the gales of countless storms blew a hole in the souls of the family who used to live there.

    Once upon a time this old truck used to haul hay, vegetables and happy people to and from the farmers market. It was no doubt a source of prosperity for the man who owned it, but like most things here on earth it shuddered to a stop one day never to be driven again. No more 50's rock n' roll music on the radio. No more races down back country lanes.  Just no more. It gathers rust in it's decrepit glory and whispers of  happier bygone days.

 

    We all have things that we would have rather had not happen to us in our lives. And like these old farmsteads abandoned out here in the sticks, our hearts can become desolate places where the wind whistles through. Never to be warmed again by the glowing fires of laughter, love and forgiveness. Can we allow these precious things to become so full of holes that there is no hope of repair? How sad that would be when "The Healer" stands so close to us. If we let him sit and hold us when we are broken, we will come to know how much he loved us all along, even in our most hopeless hours. Hearts untended are no more resilient than a house left to rot.

We cannot do the maintenance by ourselves. We need a carpenter