We Are All Broken

 

I can’t pretend that this was an easy week for me, and I can’t guarantee that this will be an eloquent post.

I spent the week at a conference with 30 other Christ following women,  and for the first time in my life, I spent an entire week in prayer.

I know that spending a week in seemingly-constant prayer sounds like a good thing- an easy thing, even- and most definitely a Biblical thing. But it was not easy for me. In fact, it was extremely difficult.

I’m 20, and I have known about God my entire life. Since middle school, I have read my Bible daily. This summer, God has been teaching me so much that I can hardly write it all down fast enough.

Yet my relationship with God has consisted of me asking God how I can get to work for Him, but not how I can just be with Him. It has been me trying to figure out what to say to others, and not me trying to figure out how to be still before God.

And, most importantly, it has been a life of me assuming that I’m whole.

But a week in prayer changed that.

This is an honest post. I’m not sipping a latte, hyping up on caffeine and striving to write something that will reach hundreds of people. Today, as I sit in Barnes n’ Noble on a rainy Saturday, I sip water from a thermos and pray that this post will reach just one person.

I pray that it will reach the person that believes that they aren’t broken. The person that is full speed ahead and completely forgets to fall on her face before God.

Because that was me.

This past week, I was first introduced to healing prayer. And let me tell you… when I first heard of it, I ran as fast I could the other direction. When it was explained to me as the process of sitting down with other Jesus-followers and confessing your brokenness to be healed, my pride reared its ugly head and cried out, “Not for me”.

“I don’t need to be healed” I ignorantly thought. “I’m not… broken.” And in the light of the life that I have lived, I actually allowed myself to believe that.

On the first day of the conference.

But day two picked away at me again. And through prayer with those ladies, God wouldn’t leave me alone. By the end of the day, I felt physically ill and I had such an overwhelming sadness that I could not understand.

It took me the whole week to realize that I was in mourning, and the thing I was mourning was my sin.

“So what, Maddie?” I rationalized. “I mean, you already knew you were a sinner. Just stuff it inside and find something to be grateful for and move on.”

And it took me the whole week to realize an extremely fundamental fact of being human, and one that I pridefully ignored for 20 years.

I am broken.

I am 100%, every day, in desperate need of help. I am weak. And without God, I’m not ok.

And when I realized that, suddenly I couldn’t be prayed for fast enough. Because, yes, I became abundantly aware of my brokenness, but I was also aware of an incredibly important fact.

Jesus is my healer.

Friend, please know that you are broken. Please fall on your knees before God. Please confess your sins to others and please experience the power of healing prayer. Because pretending that you’re whole is no good.

Believe me.

“We are all broken. That’s how the Light gets in.” -Ernest Hemingway

 

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