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I have held many things in my hands, and have lost them all; 

but whatever I have placed in God's hands, that I still possess.

- Martin Luther

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I read recently of a zen master who, when asked how he maintained such a sense of "peace" with the world, motioned to his water glass and explained that he saw that glass as "already broken." He figured that when it did break, it was of no surprise to him: it was already broken and there was no real loss there. 

I suppose to some degree I can resonate with his philosophy of already-brokenness; we live in a broken world. But I can't help but think that the maker of that glass sees it as more than "already broken." Before it was formed, he saw it as "becoming whole," and in his hands it did become whole. Wholeness was its maker's deep hope.

I not only live in a world of already-brokenness, I live in hope of a heaven where all is whole, where my Maker sees me and the world as "becoming whole". 

I want to hold so tightly to the beautiful, freshly made things of this world: our children and their purity, our safety, our health, our sense of peace. I don't want them broken. I want to keep them for myself. Our Creator, who sees us in our becoming-wholeness and wants us to be whole, knows best what that wholeness will ultimately look like. He's fashioning our souls. 

And yet in every act of creation, there is destruction. Every time I paint a new canvas, I completely destroy the pure white of the freshly gessoed canvas. Some of my best paintings were even painted over other old paintings.

So is that what all of this war and persecution and storms and loss is for? Is it even what the imaginary scary animals in my boy's bedroom are for? In destruction's wake, is something new created in our souls? Perhaps, if we place them in God's hands. Perhaps, if all we hold dear is placed in His hands.