Cities cannot shield you from the broken. Everything from broken lamp posts to broken people, and by broken I mean really broken. I mean twisted limbs that don’t function properly, I mean bruised and banged up bodies, I mean broken souls. You have to be blind to not see this but it becomes so much a part of the landscape of the city that slowly you are desensitized.
Instead of helping the woman who walks with two canes, trying to juggle a shopping bag and purse down stairs that don’t accommodate the broken, you think “Oops, I’d help but my train is coming” Worst True Story Ever – it was me.
And I think of Jesus and how he reacted to the broken. How comfortable he was with the broken. They made sense to him. They reflected outwardly what we all are inwardly – broken.
“Blessed are the Broken, For They Shall Be Made Whole!” A cry for the broken in the city. A cry for you and for me.