This broken window caught my eye today. It was up not too far from the front row, which is why I never noticed it before. When it comes to church, I’m the sit in the back at the end of the pew kind. Today I arrived late. Latecomers get the front.
Even though I love the teaching, it was hard to focus on the sermon. I kept looking at that window pane thinking it was so out of place here in my suburban church. Every time I looked away I could sense it glaring at me.
What do you want you stupid window? Why hasn’t anyone fixed you? Am I the only one that sees you? Does any one care you are broken?
Does anyone care you are broken?
Does anyone care I am broken?
After awhile, I didn’t mind the window. It fit. It reminded me that everyone sitting around me, including me, is that broken window.
Crooked, leaking, busted, crippled, defective, smashed, hurt, slivered, split.
In need of repair.
Just like them. Just like you.
Just like me.
Windows serve a purpose. They let us see out, and others see in. A crack is unsightly, and we are quick to repair broken windows in our homes and work places to keep our neighbors from assuming things, and for our own protection.
I think it’s ok to keep a fine cracked one like this window next to me. I don’t sense it glaring at me anymore.
I understand it now. I like it’s imperfection. It’s more like a mirror than a window. I see myself and accept that I’m not perfect. I will always have something in me that needs fixing. So will you. You and I may be as different as snowflakes, but we at least share this one thing in common:
We are broken like that window.