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“Look, Mommy,” my two-year-old son Nathan said, holding up a toy car.  “Austin give me this.”

“Austin gave you that car?  That was nice of him,” I said.  I bent down for a better look and noticed that the car was missing a wheel.

“I give him my car too,” Nathan said.

“You gave Austin a car and he gave you a broken one?” I asked, already morphing into Mama Bear mode.

Nathan nodded.  “This car is red,” he said with a grin.

“But it’s broken, Honey. See, the wheel is gone.”

“It’s red,” Nathan said again, still smiling.

I decided Nathan’s big brother had some explaining to do.  When Austin came downstairs, I said, “Did you trade Nathan a broken car for a good one?”

“Yes, but he wanted to,” Austin said.

“He’s two years old, Bud, and it seems like you took advantage of him,” I said.

But when I told my sons to trade back, Nathan began to cry.  “I want the red car,” he said.

“That one is broken, Honey,” I said.  “You don’t want to trade your good car for a broken one.”

“I like the red car,” Nathan insisted through his tears.  “I keep it?  Please, Mommy?”

I relented and told Nathan that he could indeed keep his broken red car.

“Yay!  My red car!”  Nathan yelled, jumping up and down.

I smiled, glad I’d made my little boy so happy.  But I still didn’t understand.  Why would anyone trade something perfect for something broken?

My sons’ car deal reminded of another trade, one made more than 2000 years ago.  Jesus traded His life – His perfect life – for my life.

My insignificant, impossibly broken life.

Why would He choose to do that?

I feel His answer deep within me, in that place that only He can reach.  “Sweet daughter,” He whispers to my soul, “I’ve never regretted it.”

“But that couldn’t be true,” I insist.  “I’m not worth it.  Remember when I…”

“You were worth it, Daughter, even then,” He tells me.

Why would Jesus trade His life for mine?  We all know the answer to that.  For some crazy reason, He loves us with an intensity none of us can even begin to fathom.  We don’t deserve His love, but He gives it freely. That’s just the way He is.

But it’s even more than that.  He doesn’t see us as broken – at least not permanently.  No matter what we’ve done, we’re never out of His reach, never “too broken” for Him to fix.

Like Nathan and his little red car with the missing wheel, Jesus looks beyond our outward faults and finds something of value in each one of us, something worth redeeming.

He sees someone worth dying for.

Jesus traded His perfect life for my broken one.

And now, day by day, He’s helping me become a little bit less broken, a little bit more whole.

A little bit more like Him.

by: Diane Stark

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