The Broken Horse
When we were kids, my brother and I spent summers home alone while my parents worked. We were young, still in grade school, but in the 1970s, danger didn’t lurk around every corner. Or at least, it didn’t seem to. Besides, we lived on a dirt road where nearly all our neighbors were relatives who could quickly come to our aid if needed. On those long summer days, we spent a good deal of time fighting. I had something he wanted. He looked at me wrong. You know, typical sibling fights.
Our house had a formal living room and a den with a wall between. On either end of the living room was a door. One led into the den, the other into a long hallway. We’d chase each other in laps around the two rooms, entering through one door and exiting through the other. I remember one occasion involving squirt bottles, when we tried to shoot our target with water as we ran. During one of these “running battles”, one of us - we can no longer remember which - chucked a small throw pillow. The pillow sailed past its intended victim and crashed into the china cabinet where a pair of ceramic horses sat on display. The distinct sound of breaking stopped us in our tracks.
The brown stallions were a treasured memento from the early years of our parent’s marriage, spent in Abilene, Texas where Daddy served in the Air Force. With sinking stomachs we crept to investigate. One horse escaped unscathed, but the other did not. Panic set in, then dread. They’d survived the relocation back to Alabama, but not mine and my brother’s rowdy behavior. Mama would be devastated. Worse, we were in big trouble.
We may have been mortal enemies most of the time, but when push came to shove, we had each other covered. No longer foes, we joined forces with one common goal. Conceal the transgression. Using glue and a brown magic marker, we put the pieces back together, sealed the cracks, then colored in the white ceramic seams. We tucked the horses back into place and hoped Mama wouldn’t notice. Days turned to weeks, then months. My brother and I eventually outgrew fighting and fevered chases around the house. More than that, we became friends, and the broken horse slipped from memory.
Years later, my family moved away from my childhood home when Daddy took a new job in another town. One day as Mama unpacked, she pulled the horse from a box and dusted it off. Something caught her eye. Some imperfection. A scar that hadn’t been there before. Examining it closer, she exclaimed, “This has been broken.” In that moment, I was just as surprised as her. The long ago incident, not thought of in years, came flooding back. My eyes met my brother’s, and we burst out laughing, then told Mama the whole sordid tale. She too laughed, amazed she’d never noticed before.
“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.”
In the past when I read this verse, I pictured a blanket pulled over transgression to hide it away. As my relationship with Jesus has grown, I understand that’s not His way. When someone says, “I’ve got you covered,” they mean they’ll take care of the situation, set things right, pay the bill. Jesus stepped in and covered our debt. He didn’t hide it away.
My brother and I were children, imperfect and immature in our response to calamity. We should have taken the broken pieces to Mama and confessed, but we didn’t. Our repairs were intended to conceal. Jesus has something better in mind for us. His intention is to heal. Love fixes what’s been broken. It seeks to restore, put the pieces back together again, fill in the cracks. Any scars that remain, serve as evidence of Love’s touch.
In the previous verse, Peter writes, “The end of all things is near. Therefore, be clear minded and self controlled so that you can pray.” Peter, the most impulsive, and often impetuous, of the disciples. Ready to whip out his sword and take off a man’s ear at a moment’s notice. During Jesus’s most critical hour, he denied he knew him at all to save his own self. The cross had put things into perspective for him, and the risen Lord had restored him and commissioned him to feed his sheep (John 21:15-17). He’d learned the value being clear minded and self controlled. He’d learned to watch and pray. Still, with regard to loving each other, he says “above all”. Why? Because love makes up the difference when we fail. He’d experience this firsthand.
Jesus asks us to love one another, just as He loved us. I admit, I’m still learning what that looks like. In the Complete Jewish Bible, the verse reads, “More than anything, keep loving each other actively.” Active love, not passive. A “love thy neighbor as thyself” kind of love. I’ve got some work to do in that regard. It’s not always easy, is it? Love is seldom the sticky, sweet thing we imagine. It’s hard and messy. It changes both the giver and the receiver.
It’s interesting that neither my brother nor I remember which of us broke the horse, but we both remember coming together to fix it. Perhaps, if we got busy covering each other’s shortcoming, we wouldn’t have time for throwing stones (or pillows) - or the heart for it. If the end of all things is near, we’ve got some work to do. At the top of the list? Love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sin.