Broken

Broken. Merriam Webster defines it as “violently separated into parts” or “damaged or altered”. Have you ever felt this way? As if your very heart were violently wrenched from your chest and torn into pieces? It’s so raw and physical you can’t believe that anyone could look at you and not see it. It goes so much deeper than a broken heart, you feel as if your very being has been irreparably damaged. You fear you will never be the same again. And if I can be honest with you, you probably won’t be. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

Almost four years ago, a chain of events began that altered my life in countless ways. A strained marriage, disclosures of my children being sexually abused, several hospitalizations in the pediatric psychiatric ward for two of my girls, a diagnosis of autism, my own bout of depression, several medical mysteries with my oldest daughter, and finally an admission of infidelity, all within about a year’s time, combined to bring me to the place where brokenness almost doesn’t even seem a strong enough word to describe it.

Everything I knew to be true was suddenly in question. Did God see what was happening? Did He care? Was I alone? Would I ever be whole again? Would the time ever come that I didn’t cry constantly? Would I ever experience peace, happiness or joy again? At the time, it seemed as if there was no hope left in the world. To say I longed for the peace of death would be an understatement. Life felt so surreal for a time there. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if I was awake or trapped in the worst nightmare I’d ever experienced. But it was real- every agonizing, tear filled moment. There was no escape from it.

BUT, and this is such a huge but- the story doesn’t end there. Although I felt alone and forsaken, God was there. He’d not turned His back on me. As a matter of fact, He saw every single tear I cried. He collected each tear as it dripped off my quivering chin. “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” Psalm 56:8 (NLT)

When I couldn’t muster the energy to even cry out to Him any longer, Jesus prayed for me. “In the same way the Spirit also joins to help in our weakness, because we do not know what to pray for as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with unspoken groanings.” Romans 8:26 (HCSB)

And while this isn’t spelled out explicitly in the Bible, I believe He cried right along with me. Romans 12:15 tells us to “Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep.” If we’re commanded to share in the joys and tribulations of our brothers and sisters in Christ, how much more does the perfect, holy and righteous Son of God rejoice, and indeed, weep with us.

I was a shattered mess, but over time, God took those pieces and rearranged them to create something brand new and beautiful. It wasn’t a comfortable process. There were times I felt this piece should go here instead of there, but He lovingly showed me that His light would best shine through me if I allowed Him to mold me instead of trying to do it myself. In the rebuilding of me, He also gave me a new purpose. To walk through people’s brokenness with them. To love them as Christ loves them. I am a vessel that He fills so I can pour it out into other people.

Looking back, I sometimes ask myself if where I am now was worth all that agony. Would I choose to go through those moments again that shattered me into thousands of pieces, but allowed me to be remade closer to His image? In Matthew 26:39 (NIV) the time was drawing near for Jesus’ crucifixion and He was in prayer with His Father and He said “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” And that is my conclusion. If there could have been any other way, Jesus would have not had to die. But there was no other way. Had there been any other way for me to become the woman I am today, I’d have chosen that route. But there was no other way.

Out of my brokenness, I am able to give of myself in ways I never could have before. I am able to give more of Jesus than I could before. I can tell someone in the midst of the darkest moments of their lives that they are not alone, and know this with a conviction that only experience could give me. We never cry alone. We never suffer alone. He is always with us, binding our wounds and piecing us back together in His image.