“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18

I’m around a lot of broken people. In the past two years, my in-laws who live with us have endured a combined three hip replacements, an eye surgery, a broken foot, Covid-19, shingles, pneumonia, diabetes, tremors, stage 3 kidney disease, and six falls. With all the medicines, medical equipment, and physical brokenness around us, our home feels like a hospital ward. My 89-year-old father-in-law often reminds us, “Getting old isn’t for sissies.”

I work with people going through emotional and financial brokenness. In myriad disaster zones, I’ve encountered people in shock from having lost almost everything. Many are too overwhelmed to know where to begin the recovery. They’re faced with burying loved ones, completing mounds of relief paperwork, and adjusting to life on a cot in a gymnasium full of other devastated souls. Some see their brokenness not as a temporary phenomenon but their new normal.

The prisoners and former prisoners I work with face multiple forms of brokenness. Some are in seemingly hopeless, lifelong battles with addiction. Many have destroyed relationships and lost contact with their closest friends and family. Most are in a crisis of faith, searching for a God who at times feels distant and uninvolved. Sitting across from my ministry partners and me in a cinder-block room in their gray pin-striped prison attire, they wonder how they ended up here. What will become of my broken family and my broken life? Does God have a plan for me? Is there any hope?

I feel inadequate in these situations. I don’t have the resources or training to make destitute people financially whole. I’m not qualified to offer medical advice on overcoming addiction or other physical ailments. I’m not a licensed psychologist, counselor, or attorney. My degrees in computer science and national defense aren’t all that useful when sitting next to a broken-hearted friend who, 48 hours earlier, was being administered Narcan from EMTs to save his life from another drug overdose.

Though unqualified to treat brokenness, I know a guy. I’m not referring to my doctor and dentist friends, Eddie and Jake, although they’re qualified to address many physical ailments. I’m not talking about my financial planner friend, Brook, although he’s helped various broken people get their finances back on track. 

No, the guy I know—the guy who can do the most good—is Jesus. As the Hebrews writer puts it, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:5-6).                                                                  

Jesus is always on call. He understands our struggles and knows the grief of losing a loved one. He suffered unimaginable physical and emotional pain and agony on the cross. He gets us. When offering advice or encouragement to broken people, I begin with Jesus. God’s Son and God’s Word provide comfort and guidance for people going through physical, emotional, or spiritual difficulty. Our Savior provides strength for enduring the challenges of this life and, more importantly, offers hope for an eternal life. He specializes in making broken people whole. 

When I think of Jesus’ approach to broken people, I think of the Japanese’ attitude toward broken pottery. They view the scattered broken pieces not as a shame but an opportunity. When there is no way to put the pieces back together without the cracks showing, the Japanese turn to Kintsugi. This centuries-old artform uses glittering liquid gold or powdered gold-dusted lacquer to repair broken cracks.

Rather than hide the broken places, the Japanese embrace the imperfections. They leverage the scars. Using gold—one of the world’s most precious metals—they carefully join the broken pieces together to create something stronger and even more beautiful than the original. The visible flaws become an accepted part of the pottery’s history. What once was broken has been made whole again!

Are you, as the psalmist put it, brokenhearted and crushed in spirit? Has the devastating loss of a loved one, a life-altering addiction, or some other tragedy shattered your life into a thousand pieces? Are you concerned that you may never be whole again? If so, are you open to meeting a restorer who can apply pure gold to your broken pieces and create in you a new creation—a masterpiece?

If so, reach out to me. 

I know a guy.