Is he a repairman or a craftsman, an artist or a mechanic? The answer can only be ’yes’.

I only know that he does such a beautiful job reassembling all the little springs and tiny gears that have come apart in our souls . . . the parts that are hopelessly piled in the bottom of the case.

When we see the chaos, it brings such despair, but he sees with different eyes. He envisions the machine working perfectly again—just as it was designed.

He gathers each part and considers them thoughtfully. He lays them out carefully on a soft cloth and then goes to work.

He doesn’t seem anxious or in a hurry. Picking up pieces so tiny our eyes can barely make them out, he cleans each one and reassembles them together, one at a time—so gently and in just the right order.

Pausing often for reflection, he marvels at the design and shares deep joy and pleasure with the Designer.

And then it happens. The machine begins to hum and whir and move in such beautiful rhythms, it doesn’t seem possible . . . like a mystery in motion.

The Designer is deeply satisfied. He and the Craftsman share a smile, and then joy-filled laughter.

And the machine? It’s perfect!