This word…. makes me ponder. I think there is a lot of truth in it. It takes me back to what Jesus says in Matthew about life,
“For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.” // 6:25
And then in the Psalms, about brokenness,
“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, You will not despise.” // 51:17
I absolutely understand the condition to sometimes want to hide brokenness. I can count on more than one hand the amount of times I have wanted to build a wall in front of my brokenness, feeling insecure about my weakness, wanting to never give anyone a glimpse of something in me cracking.
But not God. Never God.
God sees me, and he sees you. Down to the deepest, most beautiful, most dry, most vulnerable, and sometimes most ugly depths of us. God the Father, God the Creator, God the Lord…. He knows us. And He loves us.
Beloved, never be afraid to bring your brokenness to Him. Your cracked places, the places you want no one on this Earth to ever be aware of. He desires that you bring it before Him, because in His care they have the potential to become weapons of mass hope and life. To you and to those around you.
This is something I must continually remind myself, that quite possibly (and I could be wrong – because I have people in my life I can be broken in front of and them only give pure love), the surest and best place to be broken, is in God. Include Him in your heart’s cry. He longs to be there. Right up against your brokenness. The minute you give Him the space and the “Yes” to any broken pieces of your life or your heart, that is the minute He begins to heal, to restore, to satisfy, to complete, and to encourage.
It has become one of the most comforting things in all my life, the act and ability to be utterly, completely (even when it’s hard) human in front of God. But He is Abba. And the second I come, the second He loves. The second He begins working it out for my best good.
This is the hope for my brokenness, whenever it may come, however often it may come, whatever kind of wave it comes in.
Photo : Page from Elisabeth Elliot’s book Passion and Purity
