Shards of Glass

People are so terribly broken on their own. I have had several conversations recently that have reminded me of our delicate states—in many ways our souls are like glass. It is so easy for us to be shattered—we shatter ourselves and we shatter other people—and then we are left with sharp and jagged shards scattered all over the floor. Abrupt and piercing there they lie, ready to tear into the soft flesh of whoever’s feet cross their path.

I don’t like it. I don’t like seeing so many broken people, so many bleeding feet. I desperately want to scoop up the broken glass into my hands and glue all the pieces back together. But that’s impossible—the shards are so scattered and splintered that there is no way I can re-create a smooth surface. Even knowing this I still try sometimes. I still try to fix my own shattered soul; and far too often I try to fix the shattered pieces of those around me. But that only ends up in a sticky, glue-filled disaster. I cut my hands, and I poke shards into the people I most love.

What are we to do with all of our broken glass? I see people attempting to create their own mosaics with all of these fragments—mosaics that form the image of money or status or sex or empty piety—but these images are still rough and bumpy and sharp. They are merely attempts to reconfigure the brokenness, but the brokenness doesn’t go away. The pieces remain pieces, and they still tear up our fleshy delicateness.

There is only one way for the glass to be smoothed over, for the piercing edges to be sanded down. Only the refining fire of Jesus Christ can melt our brokenness back into a whole and complete sea of glass, a surface that is smooth and strong to the touch. This refining process hurts; it requires us to disassemble our mosaics and lay them at the foot of the cross. And it requires us to take the burning heat that destroys our pride, our own mosaic-creating inclinations. But the finished product is worth it; a sea of perfect and smooth and strong glass that does not cut or pierce or confuse. A sea of glass that God can sculpt into his beautiful kingdom is a glorious thing- the most glorious thing. We know this sculpture will never be complete until Christ’s final return, because there will always be more brokenness and shards and piercing in this earthly world. But we also know that Christ is the ultimate sculptor, and I want to stop crafting my own mosaics. I want to stop crafting other people’s mosaics. And I desperately want to sweep up my shards to the foot of the cross to begin the blessed and hot and smoothing process of refinement.