It's Okay to be Broken

I feel the need to be bluntly truthful right now. To be utterly transparent. A book left wide open, ready to be read. Because, quite frankly, I don’t think I’m alone in the way that I feel. In fact, I know I’m not.

Are you ready for this?

Life. Sucks.

Agreed?

Okay. Maybe this was a letdown for you. Maybe you thought I was going to say something big and important, something to pull on those heartstrings. But sometimes you don’t need a list of impressive and extravagant words to get the point across.

Sometimes the best way to put it is simply.

Life, as we’ve known it lately, sucks.

For the past couple of years, curve balls have been hurtling all over the place, and choosing between dodging them and catching them has become truly exhausting (especially for someone who’s never been any good at sports).

It makes it easier to get frustrated at the One throwing them, or rather, the One allowing them to be thrown. It makes you question. It makes you confused. It makes you hurt. It makes you broken.

Though, there is one lesson my battle-scars have taught me: It’s okay to be broken.

It’s okay to be broken when the Healer is the one doing the breaking.

It’s okay to hurt, and get mad, and scream out your questions into the vast skies above. We’re human. And part of being human means juggling all of these infuriating, but normal, emotions. Every now and then some of them get heavier than others. They leave bruises.

Bruises do heal in their own time just like everything else, but there’s an ache in the fact that it’s hard to feel something heal when a new wound materializes right overtop it.

This is where I’ve been for a while. Old wounds are healing somewhere underneath all the others, I really do believe this. I count on the certainty of this. I just can’t seem to feel it sometimes. In the moments where the weight of it all is too much.

It’s then when I want to hit pause. I want to hit rewind. I want to push and press every button that has the power to change everything surrounding me. Every now and then, I pretend that this is possible. That there’s a button that exists with the ability to fix everything.

I pretend that if I close my eyes tight enough, all the bad and the ugly will cease to exist. It will have all been a terribly realistic nightmare, and that when my eyes flutter back open, things will be better. And they’ll stay better. Because don’t we deserve a life without struggling with the fear of living it?

But that’s never been how it works. We weren’t promised this. There is no pause or rewind. Life keeps going and we’re forced to either keep up with it or stay on the ground where the last bump in the road left us.

No matter how many times we’ve found ourselves there. No matter how many bruises we’ve accumulated. The sun still rises on another day, and it doesn’t wait for you to be ready to rise with it.

So how do we do that? How do we rise when we’re just a pile of broken pieces left on the ground? How can we move when the weight of every agonized memory pulls us down?

Then God whispers.

Give it to me.

Whew. As I sit here typing those four simple words, I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I feel God. I hear Him telling me, just as He has countless times to Just. Let. Go.

And let Him.

I didn’t used to get this. I was the kind of person that wanted to handle everything on my own and all at once. I held on to every broken piece with clenched hands, fearing the idea of letting go because that meant allowing everything to fall apart.

But I had to. I couldn’t be healed and woven back together if I held onto everything because there was no room left in my hands for what was needed to do it. I don’t have the capacity to handle all things.

Only the One who created all things does. And He wants to. So badly. He’s begging and pleading for us to trust Him with it. Why is it so hard for us to do that?

• Mathew 11:28-30: Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

Are you tired? Are you broken?

Our rest comes from Him. Our refuge comes from Him.

Our hope.

Peace.

Strength.

Healing.

Love.

Joy.

Comfort.

We won’t find it in ourselves or in each other. We can’t. It’s not there. It wasn’t until I was so entirely tired and void of all strength that I finally let go. I gave in. I gave it to Him.

You want to know how I did it?

I used my very last ounce of might and lifted my hands.

I worshipped. And as I did, I pictured myself picking up the weight crushing my shoulders and letting it fly into His ready grasp.

And that’s when the peace came. There was still a storm raging around me. I could see it. I could feel it.

But I let God be my refuge and I refused to pick up any debris the storm threw my way. I’m not saying I wasn’t scared. Fearless has never been an adjective that describes me. I was just overshadowed with that peace, even when it made absolutely no sense. It’s called the peace that passeth all understanding for a reason.

It’s what gave me the strength to keep on. And not just keep on, but dance, sing, praise, shout, and rejoice. Have you ever watched someone go through the most brutal battle of their life and wonder how they had the ability to smile and talk about God’s goodness? They’ve grasped onto the understanding that His goodness is not measured by what He’s done for them.

And they’re not lying. They’re not wearing a fake smile. Putting on that smile may very well be the hardest thing they’ve ever had to do, but they’re still able to do it. They’re able to do it because they let the Prince of Peace in.

• Exodus 14:14: The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.

Did you catch that? God fights for us. We live in fear of a battle that isn’t ours to fight. No matter what comes our way. No matter what trials we’re meant to endure.

No matter who we lose along the way.

His love fights for us. And His love never loses.

Instead of letting these storms destroy us, let’s face them with confidence in the One standing before us. We stand strong. We look that storm in the eye, and we boldly tell it that it doesn’t have the power to break us.

We’re the storm now.