Broken

Broken is a good place to be. God's love can't get in when we put up walls. The walls need to come down. Hammering at my heart with a sledgehammer hurts, but it works. Breaks, but its good. A terrible good, full of suffering, but the kind of suffering that leads to joy. Dante walked through the fire for Beatrice, for love. I want to do the same. Because fire purifies. And once you've gone through the fire, the old loves, old habits, old fears and failures and follies are all burnt away and a new creation is left.

Falling hurts. Learning to ice skate is painful. You stand insecurely, barely upright, unable to move forward. And you fall. Again and again and again. And no bones are broken, no fatal wounds are sustained, so you can't call a doctor. But you bruise your knees and hands over and over and over. Ripping a newly formed scab off doesn't just keep you from healing. It makes things worse. And you fall, and stand up, and fall, and stand up, and you aren't moving anywhere because you can't even stay upright long enough to take the first step. It feels like you're breaking from the repeated bruising. So you try to find something to steady you until you have strength. You grab onto someone. And it works, and you start to take a step, so they let go, and you feel insecure, and you fall. And you grab onto something else, pull yourself up, and it slips away and you fall. Only one thing will hold you up forever, but you've got to run to it. And you can't even stand. But you have to stand up if you're going to run forward.

Run to God, they say. But I can't even stand up. God, you're going to have to run to me. Please be my strength, cause I don't have any more. I can't love, can't run, can't strive or strain anymore. God hold me please, cause I've got nothing else. Everything I've loved, I'm losing. Help me to hold a thing loosely...by prying it away from my deathgrip, if need be.

I can't keep living like this. Falling, jumping up, falling, jumping up. I've gotta just run. All the energy that goes into crashing and soaring needs to stop and go into running to God and loving Him. A friend told me last night, that I need to believe I'm worth it first. Before i can try to love others, love God, fix myself, I need to believe that God ransomed me because I am worth it to Him.

But I'm not worth it, my mind and heart cry out. I've fallen so far. I've hurt so many people. I'm breaking, I'm killing myself, I'm bruised and bleeding, helpless and hopeless. Why would Christ, the perfect lamb, shed His blood for someone like me? No, not for someone like me, for me. Because I am worth it. To God. And to those who still love me when they've seen me at my worst. I can't say "Screw this, I am pretty freakin' awesome." Not yet. But God has said "Because you are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you, I give men in return for you, peoples in exchange for your life." (Isaiah 43:4). And I believe it. Jesus loves me, this I know. And His love has to outweigh all the condemnation I feel. Because if I reject His love, I spit in the face of a bleeding, dying Savior. So if God says so, I am worth it. So I'll keep running. Cause I've got nowhere else to go.