Yoh, fam! The other day, I was walking through Akasia, minding my own business, when I saw this…thing. A discarded plastic chair, broken, sun-bleached, practically disintegrating. It hit me hard. That chair, tossed aside like yesterday's news, is a lot like how we sometimes treat each other, isn’t it? We see someone cracked, weary, “used up,” and we just…walk on by.
But that's not how God sees things. He doesn’t see a broken plastic chair. He sees potential. He sees worth. He sees *us*. Even when we feel like that broken, discarded chair, He doesn't write us off. He sees us as far more valuable than a whole flock of…well, you know the story. Sparrows.
Remember that old saying, "A broken clock is right twice a day"? We are more than a broken clock. We are not defined by our failures, our cracks, our "used-up" feelings. God's love doesn't just patch us up; it *redeems* us. It’s not some cheap, quick fix; it’s a costly, extravagant, breathtaking act of love.
Think of it like this: imagine a priceless Ndebele beadwork, meticulously crafted, each bead a prayer, each pattern a story. Then, imagine it falling, shattering into a thousand pieces. Most would simply sweep it away. But God? He gathers those fragments, those seemingly insignificant pieces, and rebuilds it, not just making it whole again, but even *more* beautiful, reflecting the scars, the cracks, the story of its journey. That, my friends, is grace.
This isn't some abstract theological musing. This is deeply personal. I’ve been that broken chair. I’ve felt discarded, unseen, my value measured by fleeting trends and superficial achievements. But then, I remembered the story of the potter and the clay (Jeremiah 18). The clay, imperfect, flawed, was still in the Potter's hands, being reshaped, being made anew. That's the power of God's grace.
So, next time you see someone broken, someone discarded, remember that chair in Akasia. Don't walk past. See the potential, the worth, the beauty that lies beneath the cracks. Extend God’s grace. Extend redemption. Let's build a community where broken pieces are not discarded but cherished, where every story, however flawed, is beautiful in its imperfection. And maybe, just maybe, we can start by picking up that broken chair. The change starts here, in our hearts, in our community, in Akasia, in Pretoria. The change starts with us.
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