why be afraid of broken things?

April 28, 2011 at 5:32 pm 1 comment

I was reading Ann Voskamp’s lovely post over on (in)Courage If Your Heart’s Breaking Just a Bit

It’s a good read – insights she draws from a paper heart her small daughter makes and tapes to her little chest to symbolize God’s love, and then that paper heart tears:

“Is it her heart or His that’s broken open, and maybe it’s both, hearts fused, and I need the mnemonic, that in a cracked world, skies break wide to water the earth and kernels break open to nourish with bread and earth breaks open to be a womb for a seed, and why be afraid of the broken things? Of being a broken thing?

It’s over the face of the deep and the hearts split deeper that God hovers close, the broken-hearted He binds up, swaddles near, and it’s a life broken like a jar that anoint Him with alabaster worship for His love that ultimately heals.”

I’m stuck on the question – why be afraid of the broken things?  Of being a broken thing?

Everytime we sing the song “Hosanna”, I think about the line break my heart for what breaks Yours

It takes a lot of courage to pray, to sing, and I often wonder if I mean it.  Am I willing to give God my heart, to allow Him to break it – to be the broken grain that must die before it can sprout new life? 

I don’t want my heart to be broken.  I don’t want to hurt.  And I absolutely hate feeling helpless.

But God wants to open my eyes.  He can use me, if I let Him.  And I have this distinct feeling that He can use me (or change me) so much more if I’m broken, if I allow Him to break my heart for what breaks His.

This allowing Him is deliberate, conscious.  It’s easy for me to turn my eyes away, to not listen, when I hear about tragedies or disasters or just plain wrong brokenness.  I sure don’t want my heart to hurt, too – especially when it seems I can’t really do anything. 

I learned to turn away from the news, from the broadcasted plights of people in Africa and other places, when I was young.  And it was wise for me then: I have a sensitive heart, and my parents shared with me the things I needed to know and the things I could handle.  We sponsored a child and did other things, and I just tried to not pay too much attention to the shocking footage of whatever horrible thing was going on that I couldn’t do anything about.

But I’m nineteen now.  I can’t close my eyes anymore.  I don’t think I need to dwell on horrific images, but I need to open my eyes and open my heart and allow it to understand what is going on, to break for the people, and to pray that God would heal them, and use me some way, any way. 

This week is “Invisible Children Awareness Week” at my school…raising awarness about the war, terrorism, and child soldiers in Uganda.  Joseph Kony is terrorizing four countries, and his soldiers are children – abducted, brainwashed, and forced to fight.  When my friend mentioned last night about the psychological warfare going on too (how do you fight when your enemy is a six-year-old with a gun?), I closed my eyes. 

Almost closed my heart.  It hurt; I didn’t want to hear about it. 

But I don’t want to close my heart.  Because there is beauty in the brokenness: God promises. 

Why are you afraid of brokenness? 

(and if you want to learn more about the really awesome org that’s invisible children: www.invisiblechildren.com)


Entry filed under: faith, slavery.

that time in your life where Disney gets mixed into everything Five-Minute Friday

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. char48  |  April 28, 2011 at 6:52 pm

    IC is an awesome charity, I’ve done some fundraising for them at my university. I enjoyed reading your blog, that line from ‘Hosanna’ always gets me too – a tall order, but a very worthy one.


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