I’m drawn to shabby chic furniture. I believe its beauty is found in the imperfections. The weathered look and chipped paint, the edges worn by time and use, the cracks perhaps resulting from rough handling or even misuse. Each aspect of the piece represents a different time in its life culminating into the statement it makes as a whole. Its story, as it were.
People are much like shabby chic furniture. Over time we have experienced use or misuse, perhaps abuse, and brokenness. Our chipped paint and weathered look is seen in our tired eyes. We at times doubt our purpose. We hate our bruised parts. We see ugliness and at times feel worthless.
Yet, it is through those very imperfections that God’s glory can be seen. It is the imperfections that He can use to minister to others. Imperfections can be the conduit. The channel to deliver God’s love.
There are some whose imperfections are more visible than others. Often their purpose or worth is questioned by those who don’t choose to look closely enough to see the beauty.
My son was born with Down syndrome. His imperfections and brokenness is evident. He however has reached those for the Gospel that others could not. He’s not afraid to be used by God. His favorite part of any church service is following the message when our pastor invites people to the alter to pray. George is usually the first up kneeling with his head bowed in deep meditation. As others make the trip down the aisle and drop to their knees, George slides over next to them, puts his arms around them to pray and offer comfort. After they are finished, he helps them to their feet and gives them a hug. Not just a slight quick squeeze. A long embrace sending the message that he cares and that they are loved and valued. It is as if George is offering to help shoulder their burden. George has a deep sense of compassion and a way to make people feel better about themselves after being around him. In essence, he shares himself and extends love. Isn’t that what Jesus does?
George’s prayer life is humbling. One evening working quietly in my bedroom folding laundry, I could hear him in the living room speaking in low tones. He often speaks to others no one else can see. It is one of his coping strategies. But this night was different. He wasn’t arguing or consoling or being comforted by the other person. It was when I strained to hear what he was saying that I realized he was praying. I peeked around the corner quietly so as not to disturb. I saw him sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, eyes closed, hands moving in deliberate motions to emphasize a point. He was intent in his prayer. Tears filled my eyes as I witnessed this scene. The God of the universe who created everything from the tiniest creature to towering trees and complex galaxies is the same gracious God who made George. My son, who has an intellectual disability, who has a developmental delay, who reads on a second-grade level and writes as a kindergartner. God knew that George would be able to reach those who cannot be reached by others. Those whose fallow, broken hearts need to be cultivated and nurtured by an unexpected, compassionate and perceptive messenger from God. It is those for whom George prayed.
God uses George’s imperfections to reach others whose own brokenness seems too great to receive forgiveness and redemption.
