Looking back over many decades, I was reminded of the time when I鈥檇 received my first wristwatch. The timepiece wasn鈥檛 expensive, but it was mine. I鈥檇 anticipated viewing its wondrous face for years, until my final days, in fact.
Enter my brother, Len. 鈥淐an I see your watch, Linda?鈥� he asked. In perfect innocence I handed it over.
鈥淚 wonder how it works?鈥� was his next question.
From then on, it was downhill. Len looked, lifted the watch to his ear, shook it ever so slightly and smiled gently. 鈥淲onder how come it ticks like that?鈥�
To make the painful story short, the gift was soon dismantled (but ever so carefully, mind you). Pieces, round, notched, springy and shiny, covered the table. That didn鈥檛 upset me nearly as much as the pieces still lying there when the thing had been put back together. It was some time before I got another watch and I recall that Len temporarily fled for his life.
I鈥檝e since changed watches a number of times but something else has also happened. The flight of time. While the incident just evokes a smile now, the lesson it presents seems even more relevant today than it did back then: some promises fail and some things are reduced to almost nothing while other things or situations become increasingly vivid and valuable.
As we near Easter 2019, I鈥檓 convinced more than ever of the need to proclaim God鈥檚 love to a world that鈥檚 broken, torn apart and scattered. Wars, murders, poverty, even neighbourhood clashes leave individuals and communities scattered. On our North American continent alone, we hear of it daily; sadly, no one escapes the consequences of broken pieces.
For those who have trusted in the Christ of Easter, there is hope.
鈥淗e heals the broken-hearted and binds up their wounds.鈥� Psalm 147:3
