With wood glue, poles, and newspaper, [my dad and I] fashioned [a kite,] a sky-dancing masterpiece…. We launched our creation on the back of a March wind. But after some minutes, my kite caught a downdraft and plunged. I tightened the string, raced in reverse, and did all I could to maintain elevation. But it was too late. She Hindenburged earthward. Envision a red-headed, heartsick twelve-year-old standing over his collapsed kite…. Envision a square-bodied main…[in] coveralls placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder…. [Dad] surveyed the heap of sticks and paper and assured, “It’s OK, we can fix this.” I believed him. Why not? He spoke with authority.
So does Christ. To all whose lives feel like a crashed kite, he says: “We can fix this. Let me teach you.”