Broken

Enthralled, I stood gazing at the glass

Unrivalled by its kind.

Glimmering light danced to and fro

Delighting an artist’s mind. 

Unknown to me, an old man stood 

Observing me, till I turned. 

With sparkling eyes and twitching mouth

He asked me what I had learned. 

“It’s beautiful!” I said at length. 

“I feel safe, happy, and warm.”

He stood, as if waiting for me to continue 

To name some unmentioned charm. 

Finally he shrugged, seeing I didn’t know

The secret he longed to impart. 

With a wistful look from me to the glass

He began to share from his heart. 

“That stained glass window that you love

Was made by me, some years agon.

Pieces of memories, broken things.”

He paused, then quietly went on. 

“Those fragments of glass seemed worthless

To some with eyes clouded and blind. 

Yet I saw potential for beautiful art…

Now its value is easy to find.”

So like the Master, when He looks

He sees not as we see. 

He sees beyond what we’ve come from 

To all that we can be. 

Using wise and loving Hands

He never throws away

What we might often overlook

Broken glass, marred bits of clay. 

If you are broken, hurting, scarred 

Yield yourself to the Master’s Touch

Without Him, we’re bits of nothing. 

With Him, our little is much!

We may go through heartaches in life

May even be broken and bruised. 

Yet the Master is searching for such

For it is he that may truly be used!