Fragile

I was not going to write today but it gnawed at me until I came loose.

We are all so fragile. Lately it was the family member that was rushed to the ICU that reminded me of our current state. The head of the family of 6 and for the past two nights I’m sure all they have felt is fragile. I’m sure he feels fragile. And I, the nephew-one who has been known by him before I could hold my neck still, feel fragile.

But it’s not just the text message I received telling me of these fragile happenings. It’s not just these things. This is only the current fragility. This is my fragile and only a part of the tender pieces.

You have yours. You have your fragile. You’ve met it and felt the softness and felt…small? Were you afraid? Did you wonder what would happen if something hard met such a fragile piece? Did it crumble? Are you crumbling now?

I’ve mulled this fragility over and it makes me sad. It made me pray all day at work. I asked quiet questions all day. And you know, I think I received a quiet answer:

I became fragile. 

For this is what happened when Christ put on flesh, right? He came into a world that was decaying. He became a part of the decay, he put on fragility, he put on tenderness, and ultimately, He broke. What do we say at communion?

Christ’s body; broken for you. 

And it’s hard for us to think He was broken. It’s hard to think He was fragile. But today, I am so glad He was. I am so thankful for a God that chose fragility. Yet, my thankfulness merely starts at the cross. It does not end here.

For our fragility is fragrance because of resurrection. Fragile? Yes. But Christ rose. Christ conquered our fragility by becoming fragile. He entered our fearful lives and said, Be calm and the seas were calm. He came with compassion and now reigns with victory.

I’m not saying we aren’t fragile anymore. No, I’m saying we are hopeful in our fragility. For the body may be destined to death, yet the soul is promised life! So we cry, we pray, we ponder, we mourn, and we groan at the fragile. Yet, in all things we prove to this hopeless fragile world that we can boast in our fragility. We don’t have to hide it. We can mourn, we can weep, and we are freed to petition God on behalf of the fragile. For we know that fragility is not the end.

We know that the last word is not fear but hope. We know that our tears will be wiped by a hand that became fragile. This is hope. This is love.

Our God put on fragility and humbled himself to that of a servant. 

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