Brokenness Revealed

I serve a God that has been with me in this journey. I gave voice to my brokenness, speaking thoughts I had internalized, lived by, accepted...These lies were spoken, brought into the light.

God can't use me. I am broken. There was a moment of brokenness, a season of wrong decisions, a lifetime of shame. I can be good, kind, loving, but I am a has-been. God does not see me. He has no use, purpose or plan for me. I have been abandoned, cast aside, forsaken for those who can stand before a holy God... and I am existing in my hurt until he calls me home.

As these beliefs were given voice, God came to my aid. He rescued me as furiously as he rescued David...

In my distress I called upon the Lord
and cried out to my God;
He heard my voice from His temple,
and my cry came before Him, even to His ears.
Then the earth shook and trembled;
The foundations of the hills also quaked
and were shaken
Because He was angry...
He sent from above,
He took me
He drew me out of many waters...
But the Lord was my support
He also brought me out into a broad place;
He delivered me because He delighted in me.

And I saw that God allowed me to see my brokenness so that I could see His salvation that has been available all along. As I realized I was drowning, my God came to me, saving me through his loving-kindness. Singing over me...delighting in me.

And I am learning that my life of brokenness is not the story God has been writing...He has been writing the story of my life in ink drawn from his wounds on the cross...indelible, never-ending grace is the story of my life.

Beautiful Chaos

...I've set aside the airbrush. I've wanted to be open with you about the failures, shortcomings, and trials I've encountered as well as the amazing way God redeemed my trail of brokenness. Truly, He has fashioned the splintered pieces of my life into a remarkable mosaic. ~ Jim Daly Finding Home

First Thoughts

I am broken.
Wounded.
Hurting.
I stumble and fall.
I face regret.
I fail.

and somehow, you call to me.
you tell me that I have a place in your story.
you have a purpose for my life.

and I wait, quietly, bringing nothing but what I am.

longing simply to know that I am loved, not forgotten, valuable in the eyes of my Father.

My heart is crying.
I am beginning to hear the depths of the cry, beginning to believe that my Father may hear my cries, too. Perhaps He will come and wipe away my tears.

Perhaps the story of me is still waiting to be told.