A toy sword broke. But Papa assured our little warrior that it could be mended. He brought out two rolls of thick, strong tape. “Which would you like? Black or red?”
“Red!”, came the reply.
“Okay, here…”, Papa tore off enough to provide a strong repair and went to place it on the sword.
“No! I can do it! I can do it all by myself! You not do it!”
“Are you sure? I can help you. It will be hard without help.”
“No! I do it by myself!”
“Okay.”, Papa gently handed off the tape and sword.
Not even a minute had passed before there was tearful yelling. “Oh man! I messed it up! I broke it again!” “Do you need more tape?”, said patient Papa. “Yeah. But I will do it. You not help me.”
With that he walked away. Broken sword and fresh tape held defiantly in tiny hands. Seconds later, angry tears erupted again. This happened again and again. He would return to beg for more. But then he would refuse help. And with what he was given he would fail. He was angry at himself and angry at Papa. Though Papa kept offering help and staying nearby, frustration was irrationally directed his way. Not once did Papa abandon him. He didn’t stop providing. He remained loving. And yet, the little boy blamed him and rejected his aid. He lamented his failure. But even in his miserable mourning he would not allow Papa to reach down to help.
My eyes met Papa’s, “This is how God feels.”
We reject God at every turn. Deny. Push away. Like small stubborn children, we march off to do it our own way. We fall and fail. We collapse into tears. Yet no matter how broken we become, we continue to refuse surrender. In an almost laughable irony, we get angry at Him. We stomp our feet and demand more from Him. If we feel we don’t receive enough we claim He is not good or not listening or not even there.
The single greatest turning point in my life was when I came to God with my broken sword and my tangled ball of tape. When I dropped to my knees and in surrender said, “I can’t do this. I need your help. I need you in my life. I need you to take control of this. I’ve messed it all up.”
In that moment, He saved me.
But I still foolishly forget how He has mended my sword. I try to do it my way. I try over and over again to make it work. I pridefully attempt to piece my life together without His help.
But then, broken, I come with open hands. “I’m sorry. I did it all wrong. Forgive me. Help me.”
And He has. Every time.
But you have to let Him into your heart. You have to drop your sword. You have to admit defeat. Are you angry at God? Do you doubt He is even there? Are you still trying to tape up your sword without Him? Is He really failing you or are you refusing to admit that you need Him? How many times will you try to patch it all up on your own before you surrender?
When the little boy had finally come to the end of himself, he walked with sword and crumpled red tape. Timidly, he held them up. His cheeks were tearstained. “I need you help me.” First, Papa wrapped warm arms around him. He told him he was loved. And then with knowing hands, he mended the sword.
Emmy Goulet 