When my church was closed during COVID-19, I’d park my car in the back parking lot and sit inside, having breakfast with Jesus. It brought me so much peace to commune with Him away from the chaos of my home. There was one thing, however, that interrupted my tranquility and irked me to no end.
As my gaze wandered over the church building, I surveyed the foundation wall. Years ago, the concrete was painted a deep beige to match the clapboards on the rest of the church. Apparently, someone ran out of paint about 6 feet before they completed the task, and they never circled back to finish. Worse yet, within that unpainted expanse, the wall had been broken to install a pipe. The patch job was obvious and unsightly. If the contractor had just painted over it, that area would have blended right in.
That wall is me. Jesus has painted over my rough spots with His grace so I can relate to other believers in a concrete and foundational way. But He’s not finished yet. I have struggles and challenges that still break me. Nonetheless, Jesus is always there to patch me back together. The resulting scars are mine to keep, though. I need to recognize that those scars turn from unsightly to beautiful when I witness to the world that in my weakness Jesus is my strength, whether I’m perfectly completed or not.
—Claire McGarry
