My dad could fix anything, almost.
“…having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; (Jesus) has taken it away, nailing it to the cross” (Colossians 2:14, NIV).
From my childhood perspective, my dad could fix anything.
A carpenter by trade and a handyman around the house, it was quite common to see Dad making repairs to every sort of broken item. He could replace a wheel on a toy car and construct a bird house in short order. Dad could fix vacuum cleaners and kitchen appliances and living room lamps. He wielded his claw hammer like a magician’s wand, making nails vanish into the denseness of two-by-four pieces of lumber. Yes, my dad could fix anything, almost.
I remember vividly the day my dad’s skills were put to the ultimate test. Tragically, our pet cat was in a fight with another animal, and it got the best of him. I’m saddened, to this day, as I recall my pet’s mangled and lifeless body. My tearful, yet hopeful, mantra, at the time, was, “Dad can fix it. He can use his hammer and nails.”
Time and perspective taught me that, despite my childhood adoration of my dad, he indeed couldn’t fix everything. Unable to deflect the hurtful name-calling of childhood and to prevent the heart-wrenching break-ups of my teenage years, even Dad had his limitations when it came to fixing the stuff of life. Of course, he would be the first to tell you so.
Still, there’s one thing my dad did do. He taught me, from the time I was a little boy, about Jesus, His love, and His care for me. I sort of figured that Dad and Jesus had a special connection, as they were both carpenters by trade. Jesus, of course, could heal the wounds that my earthly dad couldn’t.
As I think about it now, I remember that Jesus loves me, just like my dad did, yet even more so. And, what my dad couldn’t fix, concerning the messes of life, Jesus could. In fact, Jesus took nails, hammered into his flesh, to heal my brokenness, His arms stretched wide on a wooden cross, similar to my earthly dad’s embrace.
I am eternally grateful for the carpenters in my life — my dad and Jesus — and all that they have done and continue to do for me. And, I can hardly wait to see them both in heaven, to hold my dad’s weathered hands again, and to touch the nail-scarred ones of Jesus for the very first time. For now, I continue to live in a worn body in a broken world. But, healing will come, someday.