The God of Broken Sticks

Springtime was upon us in East Texas. I was enjoying my morning coffee when Joseph, my one-year old son, came bounding down the steps in his rubber boots pointing towards the door saying, “dada, side side!” It had rained overnight, and Joseph could hear the water puddles calling his name. On the way out the door, Joseph grabbed his stick. This was not any ordinary stick, you see, Joseph had an affinity for sticks. When he found one he truly liked, he wouldn’t let it go. It traveled with the family. Joseph was having a grand ole time running and jumping in the water until he looked down and noticed a dark mysterious figure he had never seen before. It did not take long for him to realize this unknown adversary was following his every step. As I watched from a distance, I couldn’t help but laugh as my son got acquainted with his shadow for the first time. When his valiant effort to flee from this creature failed, he turned and faced his fear head on. He raised his hand and proceeded to beat his shadow on the pavement with that favorite stick. It was a proud father moment.

In the process of that beating, Joseph’s precious stick that he loved so much broke in half. As his beloved stick lay broken on the ground, I said to myself, “Joseph isn’t going to like that.”

Experiences in life has taught me that once certain things break, that’s just the way it is, that’s just how it goes. We are molded by logic and reasoning. Our framework of reality declares that some things are simply impossible. I understood that once the stick was broken, it could not be restored.

Obviously, my son did not possess that knowledge and understanding, but I was surprised as I watched him reach down with his chubby, little hands and gathers up the broken pieces of his stick. He pulled them to his chest and began walking towards me. When he got to where I was, he stretched out his arms and presented the broken pieces to his father, and with his limited vocabulary said, “dada.” There was no need for more words, I knew what my son was asking, “Daddy, will you fix my broken stick?”

I could have glued the stick back together, but it would not have lasted very long — it would still be broken. I felt like this was a prime opportunity for a life lesson. Evidently, God was thinking something similar. I said, “Buddy, the stick is broken, and once some things are broken, they can’t be fixed.” However, my son refused to take “no” for an answer. I found myself in an argument with a one-year old about a stupid broken stick as he raised his voice at me and persisted, “dada, dada!” I raised my voice at him and continued to explain that it was broken. Nothing could be done! Suddenly, I felt that nudge from God, “I thought that I can do anything. You preach to people every week and tell them I can do exceedingly abundantly above all that they can ask or think. You tell them I can heal, mend, and restore any situation. What makes this stick any different?” I was immediately convicted over a broken stick.

That’s how we are sometimes. When the odds are stacked against us, logic and reasoning say that it is impossible, it is just too broken to be restored. We settle for broken sticks. Because of my firm grasp of reality, I had already given up on the situation. However, Joseph, with his child-like faith, just simply believed that his father could do anything.

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” No matter what the situation may be, or what the world may say, God is still able “to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think.” My one-year old reminded me that we don’t have to settle for what the world or adversary may give us. We don’t have to say, “That’s just the way it is.” We can reach down and gather up the broken fragments that remain and present them to our father and simply believe that He can do anything. He can restore. He can mend. He can make all things new. He can make broken things whole again.

Our God can raise a valley of dry bones into an exceeding great army. Bones are the remains of something that once had life. Perhaps there are dreams, finances, marriages, children, homes, and health that once had life, but are now in the valley of dry bones. These are the broken sticks that we can carry to our father and trust that he knows how to restore them and make them whole.

Faith exists whether it is faith that the sticks can never be restored, or faith that God can do the impossible. We can look at our broken situations and see the impossibility, or we can look to Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith. He gives hope when there is no hope. He makes a way when there seems to be no way. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. May we never forget He is still the God of the miraculous. He is the God of the impossible. He is the God of broken sticks.