Redemption Story

A couple of years ago, I spent some time at a rescue organization — interviewing people who had successfully completed their recovery program.

Don’t think lounging by the pool kind of recovery program (which is fine if it works for an individual). People don’t get through this program with a whole lot of namaste . . . it’s a gritty fight. Fought within the mind and heart and soul. But there is eventually peace — typically after a long dark season.

Sometimes it’s coming to grips and accepting responsibility for past decisions.

Sometimes it’s refusing, again and again and again, to let inner demons get the upper hand.

Sometimes it’s clearing the fog of addiction to see the value of life, faith, and love clearly.

In one interview, when I asked a grizzled, middle-aged man if he could, would he go back and do his life differently, he barked out a roaring laugh that shook the cafeteria table where we sat.

“What’s the point,” he questioned with a hint of sarcasm. “This is my story. It may be fractured, it may look like it’s in a bunch of pieces up close,” he continued. “But when you look at it from a little bit of distance, it’s a redemption story.”

Redemption story . . .

I’ve been thinking a lot about that experience, and that grizzled, middle-aged man, lately.

Tonight the Goddess and The Kid were working on a puzzle. And after an hour or so of some intense focus — and reminding The Kid that the puzzle was her idea — the last piece was snapped into place. And the image before us matched the image on the cover of the box perfectly.

This is how I’ve always understood redemption. Jesus enters into our story, and He takes all the pieces of our lives and snaps them into place — with each piece fitting nice and snug. And then suddenly, there’s a perfect image.

But I don’t think that’s what the grizzled, middle-aged man meant when he talked about his redemption story.

In one instance, the Scriptures compare people to “jars of clay” (2 Corinthians 4:7) — chipped, cracked, lowly, and easily broken. But it’s the vessel that bears the “treasure” of Divine light, wonder, and glory.

That’s the essence of our redemption story — a massive mosaic of broken pieces that showcase wholeness. Of radical imperfection that displays perfection. An intermingling of joy and sorrow. Pain and hope.

Beauty in the pieces.