Broken

Broken....

like a fine piece of crystal shattered in the kitchen sink --the shards twinkle enticingly among the soapy water, like beautiful diamonds....but be careful! They'll cut you to the quick. 

Deadly....

Broken....

like a porcelain mug crashing onto the floor, into pieces much too small to attempt to glue back together.  All that's really left is the handle....but what good is it? 

Useless....

Broken....

like an antique pocket watch finally wound way too tight -- its face smashed, with springs bouncing and dangling every which way....a treasured family heirloom once but now?

Worthless...

Broken....

like a child's doll, shiny and new, loved and cared for once upon a time --but now, hairless, with arms and legs missing; naked, sentenced to the bottom of the toy chest. 

Forgotten....

Broken....

like an old car, junked and left to rust and rot in someone's back yard, with weeds growing all around and through it -- in such desperate need of restoration, but no one has time, and the cost and effort are too great. 

Unfixable....

Broken....
like I am now

Broken....
like I don't want to be

Broken....
like God needs me to be, so that He can gently, lovingly transform me, restore me, make me like new!!

Broken....


All of us, through various seasons of our lives, have experienced brokenness in one way or another.

And different people react and respond in different ways to life in their broken state.

Some of us may become angry and refuse to allow our brokenness to humble us, so we react by striking out in hurtful, harmful, even deadly ways to others -- and to ourselves.

Some of us may feel like a complete mess, believing the lie that we have no purpose in life any longer and that we are useless.

Still others may feel worthless, discarded, unloved, unloveable and forgotten in our brokenness.

And finally, some may feel unfixable and really when you come down to it -- we're just NOT worth someone else's time, effort and energy.  We're stuck being who and what we are. We'll never change.

Over the years, I have felt and wrestled with all of these things.  And all of these feelings, reactions and beliefs are so dead wrong.  Because our loving, gracious, patient and compassionate Abba Father is more than able to help us. 

He invites us to come to Him, our Creator God, in our messy state, like children with tear-stained faces, to bring Him all the broken pieces of our lives.  He is indeed the Potter and we are the clay.  And He alone.... IF we remain still upon the Potter's wheel, not trying to jump off part way through the process....can piece us carefully and lovingly back together.

God alone can:

Remold us...

Refresh us...

Renew us...

Restore us...

....transforming us into something even better than we were before.  Something...and someone....beautiful.

For we are God's workmanship -- His poetic masterpiece (Ephesians 2:10)

Did you hear what I said?
Did you read the words I wrote down in red?
I was broken once for you
And no one loves you like I do

And that's the beauty of this grace
It can put the pieces back in place
And shine reflections of forgiveness
In a million different ways

So lift them up to Me
All the broken pieces
All the broken pieces of your life

To Me
All the broken pieces
All the broken pieces of your life ~ All The Broken Pieces, by Matthew West

(Below is a YouTube video for Matthew West's song, 'All The Broken Pieces.'  Kudos to the person/people who put this video together...it's beautiful)

Worship Song Sunday -- Search My Heart, by Hillsong United

Today, there may be some of you who are unable to attend church services and to worship together with the body of Christ.  Depending upon where you are, your church services may have been cancelled due to Hurricane Irene's arrival or if they haven't, maybe your area is flooded and surrounded by fallen trees, making it impossible for you to get out.  Perhaps you're unable to leave your house to worship because you're caring for a sick child, spouse or parent, or you yourself may be ill.  Perhaps lately, you just don't feel as if you 'belong' at your church anymore because you've been burned and hurt by the people there (and if this is the case, my heart goes out to you).  Or maybe none of these reasons apply to you at all, and you're just one of the faithful blog readers stopping by for a visit this morning.

Whatever the reason, take a few minutes to sing out to the Lord God from your heart, worshiping Him. Open yourself up to the Lord God and allow Him to search your heart and soul.  Let Him restore you in your brokenness and make you whole again, praise Him with joy and thankfulness as you sing to Him, making these lyrics your own:

So with all my heart and all my soul
With all I am, Lord, I will follow You
You took the cross, You took my shame
Restored my life, Lord I will follow You
Without You I am nothing

Running From God

Yesterday was a bad day for me.  In fact, to use the title of a children's book, it was a:

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

Not the entire day, mind you.  The day began very peacefully.  It was almost like a Disney movie in Technicolor, with little woodland creatures frolicking around and birds happily chirping in the background up until That Moment.  That Moment when I lost my temper and opened my big, ugly mouth and let the verbiage fly forth, like those hideous winged creatures in the Lord of the Rings.

It started off as a simple trip to the bank and the library, but it ended in a War of the Worlds battle and we never did get to where we were going. Instead of responding like an adult to my two teens' constant bickering with each other and with me, I reacted like a spoiled, rotten child. I allowed my anger and my frustration to get the better of me and the vile, hurtful words just spewed out of me.  That's the bad thing about words....once you say them, you can't grab them back.  They just kind of hang there in the atmosphere for a bit, like a smelly green mist. And then they attach themselves to the minds and hearts of those who are the unlucky victims of the verbal attack, much like barnacles attach themselves to oceanfront piers....and they don't let go. There's no playbacks, no rewrites, no alternate endings in this kind of script.  Vocal arrows strike hard, their poison goes deep and does it damage well.


I stayed angry and resentful and hostile for the rest of the day.  Sitting out in our backyard, I hoped to calm down, but the opposite occured.  I just angrily boiled away, like a black cauldron of witches' brew, feeling and thinking things that no good Christian mom (or any mom, for that matter) should EVER feel and think towards her family. I questioned my maturity and my parenting skills.  I questioned whether I should have ever become a mother. I wondered if this is how Casey Anthony may have felt. And that scared me to death. So I shoved the thought far away. But still I seethed.

Later, my one teen, who is always the first one to come and seek forgiveness and offer forgiveness when I screw up, tried to do so.  And I'm ashamed to admit it, but I blew them off.  Told them I had nothing to say and to go back in the house and leave me alone, which they very quietly and meekly did.  It was at that precise moment that I heard the still, small voice of God encouraging me to come to Him, to talk to Him, to let it all out.  But I purposely brushed His voice away like one brushes away an annoying mosquito that keeps buzzing in their ear.  I didn't want to talk to God, and I SURE didn't want to listen to what He had to say either. I didn't want to hear about forgiveness. I didn't want to hear about anything.  I ceased listening. I ceased caring.  And for a time, He ceased speaking.  What a lonely, deafening silence it was.

Oh, I fell, and fell hard yesterday.   Do you remember back when you were a little kid, running fast, then you tripped and fell hard?  It felt like you had the wind knocked out of you.  Well, that's how I felt, only I felt like I had my spirit knocked out of me.  I didn't just take a few steps backward in my journey.  No, I went back light years, back to the wide path, back to the old me. And who should be there to greet me on that path but an old, familiar demon of mine: alcohol. I haven't had a real drink in years (a sip of beer here and there) but yesterday, the voice of the enemy replaced Jesus' and his was the voice I heard loud and clear, saying, "Why not? Have a couple of cold ones, who's gonna care? You know you'll feel better!"  And I wanted to so badly, just to shut up the stupid voice and to also stop the feelings of anger, guilt, shame and pain that kept rising to the surface. 

The battle inside of me raged for almost an hour. It was ugly and exhausting.  I wish I could tell you I had an epiphany moment and cried out to Jesus for help, and that I called on some of my godly gal pals for prayer support, as I always encourage them to do. But I remained silent. I'm great at handing out sage advice, obviously not so great at following it myself.   Thankfully, however, I didn't give in.  And I'd have to chalk that up to God's loving mercy and grace, in spite of my stupidity, my stubbornness and my silent treatment towards Him. The remainder of the evening, I kept to myself, not saying much to anyone, doing what I do best during times I act like a total jerk: I cleaned and decluttered portions of my house. I'm certain my garbage men will be thrilled to death when they pull up to my place on garbage day.  Tired, embarrassed, disgusted with myself and fairly depressed, I went to bed early.

Today is a brand new day. I wish I could report that everything is just peachy keen right now.  But it isn't.  My one teen again came to me to ask for forgiveness for the part they played in this nasty little scenario and also to say that they forgave me.  We have made peace, and for that I'm grateful.  When I humbled myself before my other teen to ask for their forgiveness and wanting to talk it over, I was met with extreme coldness. While they said they forgave me, their manner, attitude and voice conveyed a different story to me. It sickens me to know I've done some major damage to this child's heart and spirit. And I'm at a loss as to what to do, if anything, to reverse it. 

And God?  Well, I'm not proud to say that He continues to wait patiently for me as I do everything to avoid meeting and talking with Him.  Like a wounded, bleeding animal, I'm tearfully snarling at and running and hiding from the very One Who could help and heal me. And I'm not sure why. I am quite the prodigal today.  Struggling for control of my life.  Not yet to the point of brokenness.  Not ready to choose to make my way back into the forgiving arms of the faithful, ever-on-the-lookout Father.

Why are you striving these days?
Why are you trying to earn grace?
Why are you crying?
Let me lift up your face
Just don't turn away.

Why are you looking for love?
Why are you still searching as if I'm not enough?
To where will you go, child?
Tell Me where will you run
To where will you run?

And I'll be by your side
Wherever you fall
In the dead of night
Whenever you call
And please don't fight
These hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you ~'By Your Side,' by Tenth Avenue North