It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. I’ve been running. Wrestling. Maneuvering. Pouting. Hiding. Controlling. Hollering. Learning. Growing.
While this blog has been sitting unattended, God has been putting the past couple of years of my life into perspective. Funny how we see things the way we want to see them, and in reality, we’re blind to all that God has orchestrated around us.
My heart was locked up. Hands clenched in a death grip on something: my dream, my plans for my future. Oh, I could dress it up for Sunday church and make it look pretty spiritual.
In August, I wrote about being broken, about the beauty and sweetness of embracing brokenness. Only when we are laid out before the Lord can He begin to repair us, rebuilding our faulty foundations and bringing healing to our wounded places.
For many of us, the barrier to brokenness is pride. We’ve been taught that being broken is bad. It means that we’re not good enough, therefore shame is often associated with being broken. We’d rather try to hold it together… and not face the reality of our wounds, the depth of our mess, the vastness of our needs. How ironic that we do this so much in the church. Rather than embrace our broken state and experience healing, we’d rather keep up our performance. Our happy, healthy, got-it-together performance.
I have been tiptoeing around the perimeter of this post, knowing that I needed to put some things in writing, but a little fearful of the emotion that is bulging from a certain compartment of my heart. That daughter part of my heart.
It’s so heavy, yet freeing. It demands vulnerablility, yet brings comfort. I am fairly certain that I will do more deleting than typing as I press through the writing process here. Continue reading