I Will Try to Fix You

Another glass shattered on the orange tile floor of the kitchen.  That made 9 glasses, 1 plate, 3 coasters, and 1 bowl I had broken within a year.  (I guess that’s what happens when you have a clumsy pre-teen going through a growth spurt doing the dishes.)  I knelt to the ground and tried to pick up the big pieces–to no use.  It couldn’t be fixed.  My sister and parents good-naturedly ribbed me about my record while we swept the thick glass shards into our trusty dust pan and dumped them in the trashcan.

Flash forward ten years and I am watching a friend cry.  Her heart has been broken…again.  I listen to her.  I pray.  I try be a comfort.  But it’s obvious, she feels broken.

Three months later, I sit in a crowded cafeteria, spilling out my heartache to a friend who watches me across the table not knowing what to do.  I am broken.

You don’t have to be a psychologist or philosopher to realize that there’s something wrong with this world.  The headlines scream of scandal, murder, assault, war, corruption, and death.  It’s as if the world is falling to pieces.  Meanwhile in our homes and the homes of our neighbors, we cry silently.  No newspaper chronicles our struggles.  Estrangement.  Cancer.  Abuse.  Betrayal.  Failure.  The struggle to find purpose.  Illness.  And these are just a few of the indicators that something is wrong.

The problem is the world is broken.  It doesn’t work like it should.  We’re like a clock missing the main cog, turning in disorder and chaos.  And as a result of a broken world, we have broken people and broken hearts.

When I break something, like that glass on the orange tile floor, I want to fix it.  I look at my friends who have been wounded by betrayal, hardened by loss, and injured by selfishness–and I think of a song I heard about a year ago.  Street Corner Symphony, an a capella group, sang it on the closing show of the Sing-Off.  I don’t remember many of the lyrics, but after the singers sang plaintively of life’s struggles and pains, they would sing “I will try to fix you.”

We want to be whole and we need to be healed.  We look to our friends and they offer solace, but they cannot heal us.  I can share my grief with others, but they cannot make it okay again.  “Kiss it and make it better” will not heal a broken heart.  So where do we go?  Is there a way to be healed?

People have searched for healing for centuries.  Some have decided it doesn’t exist.  Kassandra, a character in the Greek tragedy Agamemnon, tells the audience shortly before her death, “There is no god of healing in this story.”  Others believed it was found in harmony of self and nature.  Others believe it’s found in the power of positive thinking (Oprah, anyone?).  Others are grasping at anything to fill the painful void–alcohol, good grades, social media, sports, sex–anything to forget the ache inside their hearts.  Others are still searching, grasping, and stumbling in a dark world trying to find a cure for what ails them.    The problem is all these things have their source in the same broken world we stumble around in.  What are we to do?

Once there was a man, an exceptional man.  No one ever lived, or died, like He did.  He did nothing but good.  This teacher preached from the Bible and performed miracles.  He made the blind to see and raise the dead.  But He was misunderstood, misjudged, and mocked.  Finally, He was betrayed by one of His closest friends and condemned by His own nation to death by the hands of a foreign army.  During His execution, the religious leaders mocked Him.  “He healed other people, but He can’t even save Himself,” they laughed.  And He died…an awful, painful, heart-wrenching death.  Beaten, jeered at, mocked, forsaken, whipped, scourged, and nailed to pieces of wood where he hanged from three nails and slowly suffocated to death.  He was a “man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.  And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him.  And the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” (from Isaiah 53:3 and 6)  You see, His name was Jesus–Jesus, the most wronged Man to ever live.  He came to save the world and the world killed Him.  This Man is our hope.

Why do I put my hope in a dead man?  Because He is not dead.  Not anymore.  “He was buried and that He rose again, the third day.” (I Corinthians 15:4).  See Jesus was not like other men.  He was God.  And as God, He was all-powerful.  And He knew we needed healing.  And He knew the source of all the brokenness is an awful word–sin.

Whether our own sin causes our brokenness, or someone sins against us, or we suffer heartache because of the broken world (which is broken because two people decided to sin a long time ago, but that’s another story), the root is the same.  But God heals.  The passage I wrote earlier, Isaiah 53, says, “upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace and with His wounds ye are healed.”  I Peter 2:24-25 says, “By His wounds you have been healed.  For you were straying sheep, but now have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.”  Psalm 103 says, “Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits:  Who forgiveth all thine iniquities, Who healeth all our diseases.”

God heals our brokenness.  He loves us.  He allowed Himself to be broken, so we could come to Him.  Our friends can listen to our troubles, but our souls crave to be made whole by Christ alone.  It is more than just an attempt to “fix us” like the song I referenced.  It is a sacrificial love that says, “I understand.  I was broken too.”  And as I scramble to reassemble the shattered pieces of my life, eyes blurry from the tears, my Jesus takes my hands and says, “I have come to heal you.”

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Brittney
    Mar 02, 2012 @ 23:26:41

    This was awesome and a God send. Thank you for sharing this. I recently have gone through a broken heart ( well still in the process ) and this was just such an encouragement on a hard day. Thank you for the reminder that God allowed himself to be broken in order to be our Savior and heal us. And for the reminder that God will be faithful.
    – Brittney Leigh Evans


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