30 Days of Celebration: Brokenness

30 Days of Celebration: Brokenness

One of my absolute favorite things about Jesus is the fact that He’s not afraid of brokenness.

Not His brokenness, not my brokenness, not the world’s brokenness. None of it. He’s just not afraid.

2 months ago, I was told to take some time and journal what I feared the most. Whatever it was that scared me more than any other thing. I was at a lake house at the time, so I settled into an outdoor reclining chair overlooking the water, and it wasn’t hard for me to choose my thesis.

Brokenness. I feared brokenness more than anything else.

I was scared of being broken, of appearing broken. And so I put all of my energy, all of the time, into trying to fool people that I wasn’t, indeed, broken. Which is a joke, of course, because none of us can make it through life unscathed.

In fact, the very idea of needing to appear perfect only highlighted the deepest level of brokenness in me.

But I have learned something in these 2 months, and I am sure I will continue to learn it everyday. Jesus loves broken people. In fact, the more broken the better. Jesus said that He didn’t come to call the “healthy”, but the sick.

I think of the prayer in Proverbs 30:7-9.

Two things I ask of you…

Remove far from me falsehood and lying; give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is needful for me,

lest I be full and deny you and say, “Who is the Lord?”

or lest I be poor and steal and profane the name of my God.

It is a prayer for brokenness. The writer is basically saying, “God keep me broken enough so that I will know I need you, because any illusion of wholeness apart from you will keep me away”.

Psalm 34 says that God is near to the brokenhearted. He is never closer than when we are broken, so why do I fear it? Being real with what breaks us is a gift, not only to us, but to everybody around. I think sometimes the very best gift you can give someone is letting them be broken in front of you, because you get it.

Every one of us gets it.

And it brings God near, so I’m thankful for it.

The Lord Is Near To The Brokenhearted

The Lord Is Near To The Brokenhearted

I really wanted to have my life together by now.

Like, really really.

I had all these dreams and expectations about graduating college and taking on my next season by storm, because I really like taking things by storm. I mean, it’s way more fun that way.

But guys, I need to be candid with you right now, because we’re all humans and we all feel pain and I really want to give you some words that might help heal the broken pieces inside of you. Because there are broken pieces inside of me.

I’ve been a mess since graduation. I wasn’t expecting to nurse a broken heart this summer, but we never choose for our heart to hurt. I thought I may have avoided heartbreak in college due to my lack of dating, but in the middle of all my singleness I fell in love. I fell in love with the girls in my hallway, with my place at that school, with who I was there. With the sandwich line in the cafeteria, and the uncomfortable futon in my dorm room.

I started to realize my heart was breaking as I said goodbye to my friends, my mentors, my classrooms. I couldn’t stop crying. I knew I was going to miss it more than I’ve ever missed anything in my life.

And yet, even then, I wasn’t ready for how painful it was going to be, how my heart actually physically hurts. How loss does that to us as people – as sheep, as the Bible calls us. I had no idea how to tend to an aching heart.

And so I didn’t, for a solid month or more.

I’m an athlete, so I’m no stranger to pain, but nursing sore legs is not the same as nursing a sore soul. Your legs need physical water, but your soul needs Living Water, and if you deprive it of the Lord and the Word of God, it will continue to bleed.

I’ve had a few setbacks this summer, and at times it almost seems cruel, and the only reason I know it isn’t cruel is because I know that God isn’t. The loss of an internship possibility, the trip of a lifetime to the mountainsides of Italy, only to be ripped from that, too. Attending two weddings of people I love dearly, and sitting alone, achingly aware that the happiness they feel isn’t mine right now.

And here I stand, 2 1/2 months after graduation, no solid plans, no obvious doors, realizing that I know very little about being a Christian after all.

 

This post isn’t ultimately about my problems, though. I just wanted you to know about them because there’s hardly anything worse than reading some inspirational post about hardship from somebody who pretends they don’t face it.

This post is about trusting God. And if I’m honest, I’m writing this for myself just as much as I’m writing it for you. Or, possibly, selfishly, a little bit more.

Because my heart hurts tonight, and I need these words.

I thought I knew how to trust God. I thought I had trust in God. But I am learning that trusting in God to smooth out the bumpy edges of your plan is nothing like trusting God to build your life again from square one. To give you Living Water in an emotional desert.

To heal the broken pieces inside of you.

And I’m not talking about the slightly dented pieces. I’m talking about the bleeding, gut-wrenching, all-encompassing brokenness that you think you will never shake. When the devil shouts accusations at you, and you realize that your soul is at war, as the Bible reminds us that it will be. “Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil.” (Ephesians 6:11)

Satan tells me that the world is not good. He feeds on my idol of Comfort, and he aims to kill my soul, as he killed Eve’s. He wants to fill me with fear and shame so that I don’t approach God or anyone else because my dirtiness is unforgivable. The battle starts in my chest, and then my throat, and it finishes in cold sweat as I forget every goodness the Lord has brought to me.

And I don’t trust God to fight that battle. I don’t trust Him to soothe my soul. I don’t trust Him to defeat the Deceiver. I forget that the world is good, and I crumble in tears and doubt.

And today, Jesus gently scolded me, “Trust me! Do you not believe that I will heal every broken corner of your heart as I said I would?” And I knelt on the ground, and I realized that true trust is only built when we reach an obstacle we absolutely cannot defeat on our own. I will never on my own defeat the way satan tracks me down, meets me in the grocery store or coffee shop and fills me with despair. That is a God-sized battle.

And I knelt beside my bed, and realized that I didn’t know if I trusted God to fight that battle. And my hands started to sweat. When we are not faced with deep hurt and trial, we are not faced with that question, and we go on, relying on our own strength.

But we must all answer that question. Eventually.

For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers,” Paul writes in 2 Corinthians, “of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.  He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again.

Don’t skim through that. Paul faced a trial so big that his only comfort was that God raises the dead. Think of the pain, the agony, he must have felt. If he was sitting in front of you right now, listening to your story, he would have full permission to say, “I get it.”

And he learned that God is trustworthy. Isn’t that what he says, the conclusion of his journey?  “He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us.” 

But we have to trust that those words are true.

When we are faced with God-sized battles, we must jump on His back and say, “Ok. Here we go.” It’s not easy! But I’m sick of calling myself a believer and not believing.

 

Psalm 34 says that the “LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit”. What a comfort to me, a brokenhearted girl. Jesus is never nearer than when that ache begins again. And I can trust Him to fight the battles I can’t. It’s terrifying, but the Lord is bigger than the schemes of the devil. I know it to be true, and I will see it to be true. Maybe not today, but I will.

On Him I have set my hope that He will deliver me again.