Broken Made Whole

Some days, it seems like all we can do is question: How do we recover from this? Will there ever be restoration and healing? Is there any control anywhere? Our feelings get in the way, and we can sink into a pit of despair and discouragement.

There's so much in this broken world that shatters us and leaves us bleeding, staring at the gaping wound and wondering if we'll ever recover. At the base of all of it is sin. Whether it's just part of the overall, fallen condition of the world ... or if it's a sin that we've committed, or that's been committed against us -- we feel them all. They all seek to break and destroy us.

These are things that I hate.

Infidelity. It breaks marriages and lives. It is a ripping apart of two hearts that God has put together. It destroys families, damages witnesses and testimonies. It is a walking death.

Infertility. It breaks God's perfect plan of being fruitful and multiplying. It causes grief to a woman's aching heart, and brings a feeling of helplessness and hopelessness to the heart of the man who wants to provide for his wife. It is an emptiness.

Infirmity. Bodies that no longer work as they used to. Diseases that run rampant through these weary bodies. A broken imperfection that keeps us from living as we're told we should. It wears us down, tires us out, causes us to feel incapable and futile. It is a destruction.

Addiction. Rebellion. Defiance. Hatred. Wars. The list can go on and on.

All of these words are a result of sin. Some due to a sinful and selfish choice. Others due to a fallen and imperfect world. But at the root of all are sin. Sin causes us to feel inadequate, empty, worthless, incomplete, and alone. We grieve and we mourn because we are suffering a loss that we were never meant to experience. In our innermost beings, we know we were meant for more than this.

God knows. He sees. He sees our shattered hearts, feels our deepest pain, hears our agonized cries, knows our innermost being. The world seems to continue on around us, but we're frozen in place, swallowed up in our grief. Grief is a natural part of dealing with loss, and we must grieve.

However, we cannot ever lose sight of the fact that ... God is.

God is ...
     ... ever present.
     ... sovereign.
     ... good.
     ... faithful.
     ... perfect.
     ... all-knowing.
     ... whole.

God is ... all that we are not, especially when we're dealing with a by-product of the brokenness of sin.

God is ... tenderly asking us to trust in Him even we're hurting and scared.

God is ... continuing to write our story.

And His love for us is immeasurable. That was proven by the cross. All of the ugliness and destruction of sin, Jesus took upon Himself. For you. For me. For our healing and restoration.

Listen. If you only get one thing out of reading this post I want this to be it.

The cross is the point in history that we can point to where it was all finished. It was done. This sin that ravages our world, that gashes our soul, that we battle with daily -- it was defeated by Jesus on the cross. The battle still rages, but the victory is already won.

There will be a day when we will see this sin done away with. No more infidelity. No more infertility. No more infirmity. All that is broken will become whole. All that is empty will be made full. Ashes to beauty. Mourning to dancing. All through Scripture, God talks about the Day of the Lord -- the time that He'll heal it all.

It is coming. It is certain. And we wait in anticipation for all to be made right.

Healing

One thing I've discovered about healing. You can't hurry up the process. If your bone is broken, you can't wish it to be whole immediately. You can't baby it and pamper it and cause it to be strong again "right now". You can't ignore it like it never happened and immediately run a 3K. You can't use your will, or your determination, or your control to fix a broken bone this very moment. Healing takes time. It takes patience. It takes endurance. It takes faith.

Brokenness can happen in a myriad of ways -- financially, spiritually, emotionally, physically, relationally, vocationally. And brokenness always … always … always is painful. There's no getting over that fact. The amazing part is that brokenness usually happens with one swift strike. There's an immediate break, an instantaneous crushing, a ripping apart.

Some wounds are death blows. They run deep and it seems there's no way to recover. The wounds become like chains that hold me down. I get frustrated with the progress (or lack of it). I get impatient with myself. God specializes in all kinds of healing, but especially those that are the deepest wounds. The bigger the chains, the more incredible His work. He longs to set me free, to heal me. 

But healing? It takes time. It's much slower than the wounding.

Here's what I've learned in my own brokenness. When it happens, my first instinct is to cry out to God to fix it, to make it better, to repair it. I want the pain and sadness to be over and for life to be comfortable. I want to feel happy, to feel good, and I usually have a plan of action that I think God should take for that to happen. God has more going on than just the circumstances around me though. I've learned that oftentimes something within me needs to be conquered before He will work on the obstacles before me. So, the healing seems to veer off track (according to me) and God takes His time working in me, takes His time in dealing with those chains.

He knows me. He knows what I need even when I think I know what's best.

This is the time that I've learned to step back, to look to God's perspective rather than mine, and trust Him in what He's doing -- even though I'm grieving, or hurting, or confused, or not understanding. Either I believe Him … or I don't. It's always a choice.

If I don't embrace His lessons, if I don't allow His slow healing process and my transformation, then that brokenness can be a waste. The chains of wounding continue to hold me captive. Honestly, I can't afford for that to ever happen again with me. Instead, I enter into the furnace of surrender and allow Him to remove all the impurities that have floated to the surface. He transforms my loss, my brokenness, my grief into wholeness, into blessings for others, into new life for me. Slowly. Over time. Sometimes in imperceptible ways. But surely.

The amazing thing? While I'm surrendering to Him, while I'm looking to Him for how to live this life after the brokenness, a miracle is happening. Healing is taking place. It's not all at once. It's bit by bit. It's conquering old feelings of doubt and pain. It's covering up old memories of grief and brokenness. It's allowing my mind to be renewed by His Word and learning to look to Him in the midst of all of it. It's allowing Him to love me and loving Him in return. It's knowing that God is working within me, around me, through me and for me. God knows what He's doing … and there's great comfort in that for me. He's working … and I'm healing.

My amazing Father in heaven breaks the chains of brokenness to set me free. How my heart longs to be free … and how His heart longs to set the captives free!! He's my Jehovah Rapha -- the God Who Heals.

"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." (John 8:36)