Sunday, March 12

Brokenness

There are three songs that have been affecting me lately;

1. Bless the Broken Road, by Rascal Flatts

I set out on a narrow way many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you

Chorus:
Every long lost dream lead me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

I think about the years I spent just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true

Chorus.

2. Sorrow by Bad Religion

Father, can you hear me? How have I let you down?
I curse the day that I was born,And all the sorrow in the world...
Let me take you to the hurting ground,Where all good men are trampled down,
Just to settle a bet that could not be won,Between a prideful father and his son.
Well you guard me now for I can’t see,A reason for this suffering and this long misery.
What if every living soul could be upright and strong? Well, then I do imagine there will be
Sorrow.
Yeah there will be
Sorrow .
And there will be
Sorrow, no more.

When all soldiers lay their weapons down,
Or when all kings and all queens relinquish their crown,
Or when the only true messiah rescues us from ourselves...
It’s easy to imagine there will be
Sorrow.
Yeah there will be
Sorrow .
And there will be
Sorrow, no more.
There will be
Sorrow.
Yeah there will be
Sorrow .
And there will be
Sorrow, no more.

3. On Distant Shores by Five Iron Frenzy

I have been scarred so deep by life and cold despair,
and brittle bones were broken far beyond repair.
I have leveled lies so deep, the truth may never find.
And inside my faithless heart, I stole things never mine.

If mercy falls upon the broken and poor,
Dear Father, I will see you, there on distant shores.

I have toiled for countless years, and ever felt the cost,
and I've been burned by this world's cold,
like leaves beneath the frost.
On my knees I've crawled to you, bleeding myself dry,
But the price of life is more, then I could ever buy.

If mercy falls upon the broken and poor,
Dear Father, I will see you, there on distant shores.

And off of the blocks, I was headstrong and proud,
at the front of the line for the card-carrying, highbrowed.
With both eyes fastened tight, yet unscarred from the fight.
Running at full tilt, my sword pulled from it's hilt.
Its funny how these things can slip away, our frail deeds,
the last will wave good-bye. Its funny how the hope will bleed
away, the citadels we build and fortify. Good-bye.

Night came and I broke my stride, I swallowed hard, but never
cried. When grace was easy to forget, I'd denounce the hypocrites,
casting first stones, killing my own. You would unscale my blind
eyes, and I stood battered, but more wise, fighting to accelerate,
shaking free from crippling weight. With resilience surpassed,
I clawed my way to you at last. And on my knees,
I wept at your feet, I finally believed, that you still loved
me.

Healing hands of God's mercy on our unclean souls once again,
Jesus Christ, Light of the world, burning bright within our hearts forever.
Freedom means love without condition without beginning or an end.
Here's my heart let it be forever yours,
only you can make every new day seem so new.


My own thoughts: to what extent is brokenness necessary? It seems that I serve a God who prefers to use broken tools. This is both frightening and comforting. I seem to have a break built right in, one that shows no sign of being fixed anytime soon, if at all. Short of a miracle, I will never be able to entirely trust my emotions or perceptions, and the chemical reactions that sometimes go off in my head can affect my reason at times, too. (Fortunately, I still have my stubborness, which has pulled me through more than you might guess.)

2 Corinthians 12:8-10

8. Concerning this I implored the Lord three times that it might leave me.
9. And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.
10. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong.

God gave Paul a "thorn in the flesh" to keep him from getting too exalted because of the greatness of the revelations given to him. I am not saying that my brokenness is a precursor to great revelations; I highly doubt that! But it does seem to give a picture of God as someone who breaks His tools, so that no-one will be able to doubt who's really doing the work. But He does not ask something that He Himself has not been willing to face; He Himself is broken for us.

So...I won't say "bring it on," because no sane person ever really says that to sorrow and brokenness....but...

May God make me an instrument of His grace. And may He have mercy on my soul, and be my strength in weakness, and my wholeness in being broken.

I am not worthy that Thou shouldst come under my roof, but speak the word only and my soul shall be healed.

Thinking about Beauty

I've been thinking about beauty a bit lately. For most of my life, I have been unable to really look at my reflection in a mirror. I mean, I could look enough to do the basic things like put on makeup, but I didn't like it, and couldn't meet and hold my own gaze. I really despised my own image. But...Now I can look at myself. And I'm beginning to see maybe the smallest hint of beauty there.

I hestiate even to say that much, and want to immediately unsay it; it still seems to me like horrible pride, and that it couldn't be true. But it is. And it's not just the physical aspect, though goodness knows that's changed enough in the past 5 years. I don't know whether I've changed that much in the past year or so, or if it's just my perceptions that have changed.

Is there the tiniest chance that I could end up being beautiful? I don't know. Part of me doesn't think so...but part...the part that wants to be a Saint...thinks it might just be possible.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
I am not worthy that Thou shouldst come under my roof, but speak the word only and my soul shall be healed.