I like to fix stuff.

Mind you, I am not technically skilled enough to be worthy of a nickname like “Mr. Fixit” or anything else quite so lofty. I just really love the challenge of standing in front of something that has stopped working and trying to figure out how to restore it to full functionality.

Here is a picture of my latest repair project. Just yesterday I fixed the side of the dog door that was broken when our two 40+ pound dogs – in some kind of hunting frenzy – tried to squeeze through it at the same time. 

Although it can’t technically be called a repair, my mastery of the world of mechanical things was most prominently on display when I single-handedly replaced four of the five toilets in our last house. 

To this day I am not sure why that fifth one went unreplaced. 

There are several reasons I enjoy fixing stuff. First, because I enjoy taking on the mental challenge. You start by puzzling through all the possible reasons why it quit in the first place. 

• Maybe it was this.
• Maybe it was that.
• Or just maybe it was something else entirely illogical.

Once that question has been wrestled thoroughly to the ground, you have to figure out a way to resolve the issue and restore order. 

Of course, the best part of the repair gig is when you get to stand back wearing a big smile of satisfaction, watching the malfunctioning whatzit hum smoothly and efficiently along… just like nothing happened. 

“Yeah. I did that,” you say quietly to yourself as you pack up your tools and wash your hands.

Which is why it is so hard for folks like me when we bump into the things that just can’t be fixed. 

• Things like the current dysfunction in the U.S. government. 

• Things like the human propensity toward violence.

• Things like racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, classism, and religious intolerance.

• Things like smoldering resentments. Or irrational fears. Or tribalism. Or addiction. Or our unrelenting human propensity toward choosing the path of sin over the path of grace. 

And just as we “fixit” types are reaching into our tool kits to find the right crescent wrench or spanner, we instead sink even lower in our despair when we read these convicting words of Paul’s; “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:15, NRSVU). 

Yes. THAT Paul. The guy who did more to advance the Jesus Movement than any other person besides Jesus himself. That is who is confessing to his own deep and relentless waywardness.

For us fixit types, it is hard to come to terms with the reality – and pervasiveness – of chronic brokenness. We tend to see it first as a challenge…

… and then as a taunt. And when we finally give up on the idea of fixing the unfixable, we chalk it up as a personal failure. We leave the fray, still subconsciously convinced that a smarter, more resilient person could have figured it out.

I know it is a crazy idea, but what if instead of reaching for our toolbox when we see something broken, we reached instead for a Savior? What if we took a page out of his book the next time we meet up with chronic and seemingly intractable brokenness? 

Do you remember what Jesus did? In the ninth chapter of Matthew, he had been on a tireless healing and preaching tour of the Galilee region. Around every corner he met hordes of people who were sick and injured and tired and distressed.

TONS of them.

And then, when you and I would be ready to reach for our toolbox to start fixing folks, Jesus instead, “… When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” (Matthew 9:36, NRSVU). 

The word COMPASSION comes from Latin and means, “to feel with.” The first thing Jesus did when confronted with that ocean of brokenness was to stoop down, immerse himself in their pain and distress and “felt with” them.

And then, of course, he got out his Cosmic Toolbox and started fixing people. 

You and I can’t fix everything that is broken, no matter how skilled or smart we are. But we CAN ask God to give us the time to stop and have compassion.

Abundant blessings;