He Takes Brokenness Aside

Brokenness. What an ugly word. I specifically hate all the n’s in it; I can never seem to remember how many there are supposed to be…

Besides the spelling, the word brokenness conjures up so many bad thoughts in my head: the frustration of a favorite toy being ruined, getting into trouble for some kind of mischievous behavior, places of extreme emptiness and sadness, injustices in the way things are supposed to be, a mess.

Brokenness is weakness. The epitome of the lowest of the low. Why would anyone ever desire to be in a place that has anything to do with brokenness?

In an attempt of being completely honest, brokenness terrifies me. Getting to that place, admitting to others and myself that I don’t have it together, that seems like the dumbest thing one could ever do. If people know that you are broken, why would they want to have anything to do with you? You know the people who exuberantly live out their brokenness…their pain that leaks out of them and onto other people, sucking joy away? Why would you ever want to accept that fate?

Weakness has always been a really hard thing for me to come to terms with. I’m not exactly sure why; I’m sure a psychologist could look at my life and pinpoint all the signs that made me that way, but I think to some extent it’s just a part of being human. I might take it to extremes some times. For example, in elementary and middle school I refused to admit the weakness of being sick. I never missed a day of school. If I felt sick in the morning I would do everything I could to hide it from my mother (once I did end up staying home from school, I realized all that I had been missing out on). I specifically remember a day in sixth grade where I had the stomach flu. I forced myself to go to school and threw up several times in my mouth, only to foolishly think I had beaten the weakness of disease. I ended up losing it in the library after my mom had picked me up from school. Despite that being a shameful and disgusting story, I think that’s what my life looks like a lot. Hiding any brokenness, thinking if no one sees it, then I don’t have to deal with it. It’s only a matter of time though until the nasty vomit of weakness comes writhing up to expose itself.

And man, when that happens…the term “mess” barely covers it. Because friends, let me tell you once and for all, despite all of my efforts, I am just as broken as the next. Probably more so. I have issues, I have hurts and past things that I can’t get over. I question so many things, what love is, how to trust people, where I can find my worth…just to name a few. Sometimes I feel like my heart is made of glass and it is shattered in a hundred pieces inside of me, stabbing me and anyone else who dares come close to it.

It’s easy to get lost in all that brokenness. But I wasn't made broken. And I wasn't made to stay in a state of brokenness. Brokenness is necessary, and I think because of that it become beautiful. I have seen so much brokenness in my life and in others around me. Thinking of situations of pain that I've seen people live through, I know that my own experiences can’t even compare.

I've seen a lot of hurt and sorrow this summer. The woman I am living with has terminal brain cancer. I've watched her struggle with that, gotten to know her and her family, and I honestly can’t even process the weight of her situation. I have interned with an organization called Ready? Set! Work… and I've gotten to help job seekers make resumes and fill out applications. I've had stories entrusted to me; stories of homelessness, of drug and alcohol addictions, of depression and sickness, of prison sentences, and of poverty. These people that God have placed in my life for this season, they are so honest about where they are at. They have reached the lowest of lows. Their weakness can no longer be hidden. But the thing is, by coming to the places that they are at, either with having constant care in your house or ending up at an employment resource center, you are admitting your weakness and then healing can begin. That’s where I have seen beauty.

I've seen it in the man from the Salvation Army that has come to Ready? Set! Work… everyday for about three months, refusing to give up until he has a job, in Peggy as she refuses to let her cancer steal her joy, in my boss, who has had so many felony convictions and 20 years of his life addicted to cocaine who is now an inspiration to so many people, and in the mother who everything has gone wrong for her, but she keeps pushing forward because she know God will never abandon her.

So friends, can we break the social norms and come to a point of honesty? A point where we are brave enough to let other people see us for who we are? It’s not pretty. It might look like needing help to go to the bathroom, or admitting that you are terrified of even attempting to turn on a computer, let alone type a resume, or maybe even telling your mom that no, you should probably not go to school today. What are we going to lose? Not real friends and not Christ. Possibly a lot of pride, but that’s got to go anyways. Let me be the first to say that I am a broken mess. I have so many issues that I’m still struggling to let God heal. I’m a constant work in progress. I spend way more of my life in fear than walking in the freedom that Christ died to bring me.

But my Maker sees my brokenness as beauty. He sees me for who He is making me to be. And He sees you for who He is making you to be. Yes, I have failures, but I’m learning to not let them define me. I am slowly denying them their power over me, first by accepting them. Then by allowing God to slowly pry my fingers from the broken pieces of glass inside of me that I have my hands so tightly wrapped around. The feeling as He heals those wounds is…indescribable. The need for Him in those moments is so strong. So praise God for brokenness. Because it’s in those times, or after those times, looking back, that we can see Him the most clearly.