Holy ground — without brokenness, there would be no healing or hope or grace. So, thank you, Abba, for reserving a place for us, just for us, at the curb with you.

MO is at Black Rifle Coffee. Beyond Black is in the cup, silence is on the playlist, and God has moved the room to the curb.

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him! For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life! Not only is this so, but we also boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation. (Romans 5:6-11 — bold added to help us recognize why we were on the curb of broken “whatevers” before his grace found us!)

What do you do with broken things?

My dad would find a place in the garage and keep the broken “whatevers” in hopes of one day fixing them, or using the parts to fix something else — he loved restoring them — turning misfits into good-fits… don’t think he ever tossed anything, he even gave a new home to the broken stuff in the backlot at work.

Lyn and I, on the other hand, put our broken things on the curb by the driveway, and like magic…within three hours they disappear.

Over the last four decades lots of broken things have vanished:

• • 5 chairs

• • 3 recliners

• • a trash compactor

• • a washing machine

• • three lawn edgers

• • two lawn mowers

• • a dot matrix printer

• • a b/w laser printe

• • two color printers

• • one fax machine

• • a 21 inch computer monitor

• • 2 ceiling fans

• • a rusted out radial arm saw

• • two patio furniture sets

• • three outdoor swings

• • three TVs

• • three outdoor gas grills

• • two floor lamps

• • three VHS players

• • a tireless wheel barrow

• • a vacuum

• • three rotted railroad ties

• • one barely used treadmill

• and one grab-bag full of broken odds and ends.

All labeled “free to first one who stops.”

They all disappeared by nightfall. So, unless it’s broken, we don’t leave anything by the curb.

God on the other hand is like my dad. He collects broken things. He knows the curb well — He lives there. Only his collection is much more intriguing and compelling than my dad’s. He takes broken people, those who know they’re broken and those who are clueless — they are all treasures to Him — He mends them, comforts them. heals them, finds their lost pieces, and makes them whole.

His magic only happens at the curb, the place where confession happens, when we admit our helplessness, where we own up to what’s going on behind what’s going on. And to be comforted, we have to experience His healing we have to leave our brokenness as the curb.

Abba collects all kinds of brokenness — broken dreams, broken hearts, broken promises, broken futures, broken reputations, broken trust, and broken bodies. Then, our Abba does holy surgery. He restores, heals, transforms, and repurposes. Somehow, He makes us stronger in the broken places.

The Spirit of God knows us better than we know ourselves; He knows we will fight Him — refuse to turn loose — we will try to hide our brokenness — to second-guess the curb. We don’t like admitting we are broken.

The first miracle is that…

The second miracle is that…

That’s when the curb becomes holy ground.

Ah yes! Holy ground — without brokenness, there would be no healing or hope or grace. So, thank you, Abba, for reserving a place for us, just for us, at the curb with you.

I can smile because God owns the curb. Real church happens there!

Author: R. Rose