Scruff has been wanting to do some more woodworking. Consequently, he’s spent some time perusing table designs online. He was scrolling through a bunch of pictures when a certain table caught my eye.
“That one.” I said, stopping him before he moved past it.
Both of us paused and admired the table. A gargantuan plank had been sawn from a single massive trunk. The surface cut and sanded glassy smooth and treated with a gleaming finish. What made this lovely bit of craftsmanship stand out from all the other beautiful tables?
The wood was damaged.
Something had gouged out or perhaps eaten away a large chunk from the center of the tree. Dark and irregular, the deep wound rested at the heart of the magnificent table. The damaged place reduced the practicality of the piece. I could imagine businessmen losing their coffee cups and pens down inside the blackened crevasse. As a mother, the thought occurred to me that cooked carrots might be hidden inside, or small jars of bugs or captured frogs. I suppose the table had lost some of its usefulness because of the gaping wound. It had been damaged.
Oh, but it was beautiful.
The utter loveliness, caught my breath and stilled my eyes as they roved over the other pieces of furniture. This one was more amazing than all the rest.
You tell me. Here is the link. Obviously, I cannot afford this table any time soon. But anyway… for me, the character of the piece is what drew me in. There was nothing else like it. The tree must have been ancient and enormous, great and tall and strong. It had survived some deep wound within itself and had lived on. It continued to grow and thrive and the rest of the wood shone with the rich colors and intricate grain that always enchant me. But that deep gouge at its heart, this bought my love. The table was simply gorgeous.
We are like this, you know. You and I. Is there any among us who has not been wounded?
A rental group was up a few weeks ago. The speaker was Chris Weedin. He spoke for us at Sr. High Teen Camp last summer. Chris asked Scruffy to start out their testimony time on the last night of their retreat. Scruffy’s testimony is not pretty. God called him out of a dark and terrible place. But then, isn’t that what God does for us all? Without Him, we are diseased and dying. Then The King rides rampant through our darkness and makes us new. After Scruffy started things out, kids got up to speak. One after another, after another, after another. Broken, bleeding, and beautiful. Until 1:45am they came.
I can imagine their Lord, watching from His throne as each one stood and walked forward.
“That one.” He said. “I want that one.”
For just as I stopped and stared in amazement at the beauty of that wounded table. Our Lord sees the glory waiting within each of us. Gleaming wood, delicate grain, wounded heart. So lovely. Do not forget, my friend, what you are to your Lord and King.
Psalm 34:18–“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
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“That one. I want that one.”
I got chills, tears and goosebumps, all at once.
I’m a mess. And God still loves me.