At the end of the day, everybody, all of us, are just a bunch of broken people. I will never forget the words to a song that has stuck with me since I was a child. It was performed by the Gaither band, and I don’t think it was ever recorded by anybody else. Friday nights at a community center of some sort, a group of people from various denominations came together to worship the Lord. The song, Something Beautiful.

Something beautiful, something good
All my confusion He understood
All I had to offer Him was brokenness and strife
But he made something beautiful of my life

If there ever were dreams
That were lofty and noble
They were my dreams at the start
And hope for life’s best were the hopes
That I harbor down deep in my heart
But my dreams turned to ashes
And my castles all crumbled, my fortune turned to loss
So I wrapped it all in the rags of my life
And laid it at the cross.


All I had to offer Him was brokenness and strife
But he made something beautiful of my life

The verse that says ”all I had to offer him was brokenness and strife’ meant so much to me. The song, they would play on acoustic guitars, my dad playing, me being proud.

At the end of the day, that’s’ it. Gifts of brokenness and strife. That’s just a whole lot of my life. Me offering brokenness and Him offering healing.

We get banged around a lot in this life. Its not just Christians. It’s every single person on the earth. I speak to the church because I do believe we are called more than anybody else to offer grace and love. I think the age of ‘tough love’ has passed. That doesn’t mean zero accountability or the Lord allowing us to continue in our sin. It means being very prayerful and thoughtful if we feel the need to exert influence on another one’s life.

There are a lot of broken, hurting people out there and yes, there is a time and place for dealing with that. I just submit that our own brokenness might hinder us from offering grace to a whole lot of broken people.

And if you find an updated version of that song, please let me know.


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