I was introduced today to an amazing Christian-folk artist named Isa. I was listening to her and cleaning when I heard this line:
He is the One who breaks me whole…
Stuck by this saying, i ran back to my computer, rewound the song, and listened closely, only to discover she actually says:
He is the One who makes me whole…
After I realized the mistake, I began thinking about what an interesting concept the mistook line would be…To be broken into wholeness. From an outsider’s perspective, this is an oxymoron, an improbability, an irrational statement that leaves no butterflies in the stomach or room for fairytale happenings. However, I have never experienced wholeness, true wholeness in Christ, as powerfully as I have in moments of brokenness. Those times where everything around us falters and fails us miserably-the thing we once held on as our security blanket has been ripped out of our clenched fists. The moment seems like wretched, hopeless, causes. We are marred and bruised, and there is no way out of the wreckage we so desperately want to evade. How could any good come out of this pain? It feels like the very happiness we were once identified with is plucked away, one devastating situation after another.
Something I like to call pruning.
Like a child sucking on an electrical wire, God strips His children of the deceptively fun toys they cling so tightly to. The children cry. The children pout. But they quickly learn the dangers they have been protected from and eventually become thankful Daddy never let them “learn the hard way…”
This present darkness has been cast upon us without warning, and there is a sense of abandonment, betrayal, loss, or hurt. But in the darkness, in the midst of the surrounding destruction, we sense two arms holding us very still. Although sometimes our precious security blanket is stripped away by the raging storm, we feel our feet being firmly established on solid ground…even if we feel like we are timidly attempting walking on uncertain waters.
And as the tears fall, our glazed eyes see where they land: on the most beautiful feet of a King dressed as a Servant. Our hair is tousled, in a rumpled mess around His feet-matted from the dirt falling from our dripping face. And as we reach the point of desperation. We hear the accuser calling our sins out for all to see, deprecating our little offering, calling us worthless, immoral, unworthy; but we fight on because our hearts are longing to touch the King’s feet, these grimy, torn, and labored feet.
Just as the accusations are quickly reaching past the point of bearing, we hear the King call out in our defense:
“Leave her alone…Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me…“
And while, in this time of momentary affliction, we cannot see the His Face through our welled eyes, we know it beams radiance through the darkness we are drowning in. And, in that sweet moment, we realize that the only way for our hearts to every experience true intimacy with Christ is through our surrender. It is in that moment that we are utterly broken into wholeness.