running towards the wreckage

Ever since I was a kid, I've spent a good amount of time at the beach. And now that I go to school near the mountains, I'm not as fond of it. The sand is sticky and the air is salty and the pace of life is different, slower. But I still haven't outgrown my love for the expanse of untouched waters where the skyline is visible, or lazy walks down the shore and back. Tonight I took one of those walks.

Each time I walk, whether I plan to or not, my eyes constantly scan the ground beneath my feet, searching for shells. I know what to look for- the ones I've always liked: the scalloped ones or the pure white ones or the ones with really deep grooves. But I, just like most every other person that has ever searched for seashells, will only deem the shell acceptable if it is without blemish, fault, or stain.

Tonight as I looked, I kept picking up shells and tossing them back, because they were damaged. And then I found this one:

That's one of those pure white ones. It is not cracked or dented or covered with anything. It looks perfect, so I shove the shell in my pocket, happy to have found it. 

And as I continue to walk, I find this: 

This is one of those shells I like with deep grooves, except for most of it has been ripped off, lost at sea or buried under the sand. So I toss it back, unsatisfied. But before I can even stand up and keep walking, I bend back down and pick it up and stick it into my pocket too, not really sure why. 

And then I get it.

I was that shell, the damaged one. And without any doubt or hesitation, Jesus picked me up and smiled in the midst of my brokenness and took that on. He decided to bear the weight of being broken, and He washed me and made me white and pure and whole. He didn't see the white shell as more valuable than the chipped one. He didn't love one more than the other. In fact, Jesus was drawn to the blemished people, the ones that were disregarded and ignored and taunted. He was drawn to me. And in the midst of your brokenness, He was drawn to you too.

All too often I realize that I overlook the beauty in broken people- all I see is the mess and I decide that it will take too long to dig through to find the beautiful parts underneath. But Jesus sees that there is beauty in the mess, in the damage, in the missing pieces. When I see the wreckage, I pretend that I don't notice it, but He runs in its direction, because He cares too much to leave it like that. And tonight, Jesus used something as small and as silly as seashells to remind me that He wants me to do that too.