On Friday last week Tom and I made a trip to the refuse transfer station. Someone had dumped an old wardrobe on the church carpark, labelled 'free' perhaps to make them feel better about dumping their rubbish on someone else's property. I had moved it to the roadside hoping someone might actually want it, but instead it blew over in a gust and sustained damage, so it was off to the dump.
At the transfer station I noticed the guy next to us was dumping various household items, including a small guitar. I asked if I could have a look at it because it seemed promising. His daughter no longer wanted it because it had a broken string. I checked for major damage and found none. I took it home, cleaned some girly glitter stickers off, gave it a polish with wood oil and a new set of strings. It has a few scratches and dings on the back from the trailer ride but is otherwise a sweet sounding little instrument. Redeemed and restored.
It's a bit like how God feels about human beings. It's a redemption mission, as if we were plucked from the trailer on the way to the dump. It's a restoration project, the scratches and dings are there, but sweet music is still possible with some care and attention to making things right, from the one who made us in the first place. Grace and peace.
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