Broken Pieces

 The solid, untreated wood draws me in – so real, so present – a symbol of the great sacrifice offered on behalf of my sins.

Each thorn on His brow, each slash on His back, each drop of spit on His face, and the three nails that pieced His skin, all suffered to save my broken soul. His life offered in exchange for mine.

The earth trembled, the veil was torn, the dead rose to life.

Surely this was the Son of God.

With my broken pieces I run to Him; His open arms ready to embrace the daughter who easily forgets.

He breathes life into me, covers me with forgiveness, and lavishes me with unending and unconditional love.

A gift of life.

You paid the ransom for my soul. I belong to you.

Although I am made up of broken pieces, I offer those freely. All of them.

Take these broken pieces and make them into something beautiful.

Take these broken pieces and use them for your glory.

Take these broken pieces and change me.

I will follow you.