Crashed and Repaired

I was at my computer at 5.45am one Friday last month, working. At 6.15, there was a loud crash. My first reaction was to think that the roof had blown off. Instead, a large picture had fallen off the wall above the stairs. Rather heavy, it had taken off several more beneath it and crashed onto the stairs, falling down into the hallway, the wooden frame broken, the large plate of glass smashed into hundreds of fragments. It was a copy of a medieval map and the framing had cost me over a hundred pounds, which grieved me the more. By 8am, superglue and parcel tape had been procured and the frame was patched back together and the map re-hung. The glass is unreplaced and the whole looks rather scruffier, which is preferable to throwing it away or burning it for kindling.

Our bodies are not unlike that picture. Sometimes they fail and fall because of a sudden event, while others slowly fade away, leaving their occupants frustrated and decreasingly mobile. The Lord heals, of course, but He often does not. We are patched up and mended, often by human agencies; although we still function, we might look the worse for it. One day, however, and all things shall be made new, including these oft-repaired tents we currently inhabit. 

In the middle of its street, and on either side of the river, was the tree of life, which bore twelve fruits, each tree yielding its fruit every month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. Revelation 22:2

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