In Isaiah 58 verse 12 we hear God talking about a Repairer of the Breach. Which immediately makes me picture someone in overalls, holding a spanner, standing thoughtfully in front of a gigantic crack in humanity, scratching his head and saying, “Right then, let us get to work.” A Repairer of the Breach is someone who refuses to accept brokenness as normal. Which in today’s world already qualifies as radical behaviour. Because brokenness has become so fashionable. We have broken families, broken friendships, broken politics, broken churches, broken promises, and broken lifts that carry motivational quotes inside them. Most of us have mastered the art of walking past breaches. We step over them. We jump across them. We photograph them. We post about them. But we rarely kneel down and start repairing.
God’s description is simple. Someone who sees damage and says, “By God’s help, I will mend this.” Not, “Let me write a strong opinion about this.” Not, “Let me forward this to twelve people.” Not, “Let me blame the previous generation.” But, “Let me fix what is in front of me.” That already disqualifies professional complainers. A Repairer of the Breach is someone whose presence makes situations better. Which is quite inconvenient, because most of us secretly hope situations improve after we leave, not while we are there. Some people enter a room and tension rises. Others enter and coffee tastes better, conversations soften, and arguments mysteriously lose energy. Those people may not preach sermons. But heaven notices. Someone who leaves places stronger than they found them. Not wealthier. Not louder. Not more impressed with themselves. Stronger.
Where do you see a breach today? In your family? In a friendship? In society? In someone’s wounded heart? Or is the breach closer to home? A corrupt church leadership? A religious organisation that has lost purpose? A ministry that still has a logo but no love? A committee that meets faithfully but listens rarely? Maybe you are tempted to leave? Many do. Exiting is easy. Repairing is exhausting. But perhaps you are not called to run. Perhaps you are called to step in. To repair. To mend. To lead. Which means getting misunderstood. Which means getting tired. Which means getting criticised. Which means sometimes being the only sane person in a slightly insane room.
God does not call everyone to repair everything. He calls each of us to repair something. One relationship. One family corner. One broken system. One wounded soul. Small repairs change big structures. So the next time you feel irritated by what is broken around you, pause. That irritation may be a divine invitation. Not to complain. Not to condemn. But to kneel down and pick up God’s toolbox. And become, quietly and faithfully, a Repairer of the Breach…!
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