So, you see, the love of old things is in my blood. My heart beats much faster as I approach anything that resembles a yard sale. It is the thrill of finding something wonderful beneath a pile of things not-so-wonderful.
This is the story of what I found one day under a pile of not-so-wonderful stuff.
A small stained-glass window. I hardly recognized it for what it was at first. It was caked in years and years of dirt. Before I rescued it from the pile for a closer look, the lady told me she would take five dollars for it. When I pulled it out, I saw that it had a few cracks, and a small triangular-shaped piece of glass was missing. But hey, for five bucks, why not? I bought it.
I took it home, put it in the storeroom, thinking I would clean it up in a few days. It was a few months when I remembered it. When I fetched it from storage, I began to clean off layer upon layer of dirt. Slowly, the simple design began to emerge--a single red tulip with two green leaves.
I wondered where the glass had lived in its better years. I wondered whose hands had gently cleaned the fragile panes. I wondered how it was broken and who had discarded it when it became imperfect. Though there were no explanations for all my "wonderings", I was glad I had decided to reclaim and rescue it.
That beautiful little piece of glass I purchased for so little now lives in one of my windows in a room I spend time in every day. The morning sun shines through it, creating the most lovely shapes and colors despite its imperfections. It's hard for a window to go through life without some of those.
It's the same for us. We just cannot live this life without imperfections. Like the glass, there will always be those who see us as "less" because of them. As humans, we won't end up on the bottom of a pile of rubble, but we do end up in lonely houses with shades drawn thinking we'll just live out our days collecting dust, feeling as if we are of no use to anyone because we can't be perfect enough or because we've been damaged.
But then there is this One. He digs through the rubble for you and me. He never even asks "how much for this one?" He just pays with everything he has. When he looks at the cracks in us and when he finds us with pieces missing, he still wants us. Imagine that.
He still wants us.
With years of soot and dirt on us.
Just take a minute and let that soak in.
I believe when He looks at me and when he looks at you, He sees something completely beautiful. And He reclaims me. And you. No one else can see me that way. No one else can see you that way.
We are His pieces of broken stained glass. And I believe He takes great joy in the light that shines through our broken and cracked panes.