Broken Pieces

It was an ordinary fall afternoon. The kids and I were headed to our friends' house to play. We were stopped at the light waiting to turn left on the busy main street that runs through town. The light changed and a car pulled out from the church on the left to pull across the intersection. In an instant there was a huge crash- like an explosion. An SUV coming in the opposite direction had crested the hill at full speed. The driver could not see the red light because of the sinking sun shining on the traffic lights. She t-boned the car, crushing its driver's side and sending it spinning across the intersection. It came to a rest right in front of our van.

I sat there stunned for a moment. It was as if time stood still and everything was silent. There were three passengers in the car- an adult driver and passenger, and a teenage girl in the backseat on the side that was hit. I could see them moving around and there was metal, shattered glass, and car parts strewn all over the intersection. It was a very busy time of day and there were dozens of cars everywhere. There had been countless witnesses, but no one moved. Everyone just watched. I couldn't just sit there watching. I had to do something. I told the kids that everything was okay and they needed to stay in their car seats.

As I got out and walked up to the car I could hear crying and moaning. The passenger was shaken up and had hit his head. The teenager had been hit directly when the SUV struck the car. The door was smashed, windows were blown, her arm was cut, bleeding, and obviously hurt. The driver was in distress with multiple injuries and an existing heart problem.

After calling 911, there was very little I could do aside from brush away broken glass and wipe away blood. All I had to offer was hands to hold, calming words, and reassuring prayers. As I knelt in the middle of the road in a pile of broken glass I realized... that was all I needed to do at that moment. Aside from basic first aid, it was all I could do. It felt insufficient and the minutes felt like hours until the rescue squad arrived. But as I saw the looks in the victims' eyes and the faint smiles as I said goodbye and walked away, I realized that at moments like these that is all anyone really wants is someone to hold their hand, reassure them, and help them be able to do hard things.

That is all God is asking of each of us.

So many times people run to the safe, comfortable, and secure places to minister. Many Christians truly believe that God would never call them to some place dangerous or messy. But that is not the Christian life. That is not how Jesus lived. People are messy, relationships are broken, the world is a dangerous place. Pain, suffering, and death are all very real. When we see a place in our lives or in the world where everything is falling apart and it seems all hell is breaking loose, that is God's way of saying, "Over here!" That is where the love and healing of Jesus has to be and we are the ones who have to take it there.

Never be afraid to step out in faith.

Cross the street.

Hold the hands.

Offer the prayers.

Ask if you can do anything.

Tell people that you care.

Listen to the Holy Spirit telling you to act.

Jesus will always be there where the path is broken, the pieces are messy, and the people are in need.

That's where His people should be, too.