Truth is, we're all broken. But you know that, you don't need me to tell you. You know that the person next to you, the one who looks like they have it all together, doesn't. Too often we think we are the only one whose house is a disaster, whose family is struggling, who crumbles under the weight of their job or their relationships or their expectations. But we aren't the only ones. You don't usually even have to peel back many layers to find it. Right under the surface, we carry our silent grief, our hidden guilt, our quiet tears.
As I encountered situation after situation this week that broke my heart, I was reminded of how easy it is, especially in the age of social media, for us to build a façade and hide behind it. I know I do. But I was also reminded that wherever there is brokenness there is also Jesus. Lift up your heads, you gates; be lifted up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord, strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle.
In our weakness, He is there. When my family gathers for a fall weekend in Northern Michigan and I sit under the air con in Bangkok, the King of glory may come in. When leaders stumble, the King of glory may come in. When cancer invades and families are left without husbands and fathers, the King of glory may come in. When young people make tragic decisions, the King of glory may come in. When the clock ticks on and hope seems futile, the King of glory may come in. When babies die and a mother's arms are left empty, the King of glory may come in. When families struggle, the King of glory may come in. He can make broken things beautiful. He's the only one that can make broken things beautiful. In fact, he came to make broken into beautiful.
Whatever you are facing this week dear friends, the King of glory may come in.
He loves you.
He is with you.
He is for you. And he is mighty in battle.
