Beautifully Broken

Something that I have noticed is that we, as people, connect in our brokenness.  We don’t connect and relate to one another based on our pretending that everything is ok, we relate based on our wounds, regrets, and tears.I’ve been on this journey, full of hurt, for months and maybe even years now.  I sweep it under the rug; acting like I am fine and thinking eventually it will all just come together and be okay.  But in doing this I am thinking everything will be ok without seeking my Father with everything I have, without seeking Him with every ounce of my strength.  Of course, I seek Him, love Him, pray to Him, and spend time with Him.  But I am talking about getting to the point where He is literally all I need, where I am so dependent on Him that I cannot imagine going through the next moment without holding onto his hand so tightly my knuckles are white.  See, my knuckles are white, but it’s because I’ve been holding onto things – idols – so tightly that my Father has become eclipsed by my idols.  I pray and yearn for Him to be my everything and that I would be so content with just… Him and Him alone.  Knowing this was what I truly desired, He had to pry the idols out of my hands and bring me to a place of complete brokenness.  The only place I had to run now was directly into His arms.

I had the privilege of going to a conference in Southern California with Catalyst.  As I sat through session after session, I felt my Abba father slowly breaking me piece by piece.  I sat in Judah Smith’s session, a pastor from The City Church in Seattle, WA, and cried.  I cried and I didn’t even completely understand why until a few days later on my way home.  Everything started crashing down and reality began to hit me.  The reality of where I was placing my hope, where I was placing my trust, where I was placing my devotion; and it wasn’t 100% on Jesus.  I wanted to be completely and utterly dependent on Him, but I wasn’t.  I was relying on my own strength to get me through my moments.  I was humbled and thankful that my Redeemer loved me enough to break me into pieces in order to build me into the woman not only that He wants me to be, but who I so desire to be.

I could literally feel my healer’s hands around me, I could feel his touch and I wept with so many emotions I couldn’t even begin to describe them all: pain, regret, gratitude, humility, hope, love.  As I have begun to walk in my pain toward healing, taking each moment to Him, I heard a whisper in my heart as my maker’s hands wiped the tears from my eyes, “Beloved, let me heal you, let me love you, let me be God to you… you are so beautifully broken!”

Written by Cara Bowen