Broken

So, we sang that song in church again a few weeks ago. You know the one. "Brokenness, brokenness, that's what I long for. Brokenness is what I need." As a woman of faith, admittedly a word of faith woman, I believe that when Jesus said that He came to heal the brokenhearted, He meant what He said. When He said He would make me whole, He meant it. When the Bible speaks of shalom, it speaks of nothing missing, nothing broken. And that includes me. If God said it, that settles it. That's why I don't sing along with that verse in that song. At least until that day, a few weeks ago.

Maybe I'm just a Johnny-come-lately, and maybe you already had this one figured out, but let me share what Christ taught me about what "brokenness" really means.

Jesus was the most put-together Man to ever walk planet Earth. Gentle, yes. Humble in heart, yes. Broken, absolutely not. He knew Who He was. He knew His purpose. He knew what belonged to Him in God. He never complained that He was born in a stable. He never wailed about His poor upbringing in Nazareth. He never felt sorry for Himself because people didn't understand Him or that some even wanted Him dead. But one dark night in an olive grove, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, faced the meaning of brokenness. On His face, sweating blood, He cried out, "Take this cup from me. Nevertheless, not what I will, but what you will. Not my will, but thine be done." And that, dear friend, is true brokenness.

Brokenness is not feeling sorry for myself. It is not wallowing in the events of the past that have hurt me. It is not wearing my "wounds" on my sleeve, looking for sympathy from people when I refuse to let Christ heal those wounds, just like He promised. I can be made whole and be completely restored by the Restorer of Broken Walls, and still suffer a time of brokenness. Not a broken life. Not a broken psyche. Not a broken heart. A broken will, a broken will.

When life deals blow after blow, punching the lights out of what I thought my life would be, I can say, "Not my will, but thine be done." When Satan is allowed to sift me like wheat, I can stand tall in the power of the Holy Ghost and say, "Have your will, my God. Not my will, but thine be done." When I'm tired and worn out and think that I can't give one more ounce of myself, I can recall the Word that says, "I can do ALL things through Christ who strengthens me." And somehow, supernaturally, I will be able to give and love and nurture and care for others for one more day. Not in my power, but in His. Not my will, but His be done.

We talk some good talk when we say that we want the Lord's will done in our lives. But that divine will won't ever be accomplished until our own human wills are broken. That is true brokenness.

True brokenness stands up in the middle of the violent winds and the raging storm, hair blowing in the hurricane that is life, and screams, "Jesus! I wouldn't do this for anyone else but you!!!!!"

"Not my will...but thine be done."

Brokenness, brokenness, is what I long for. Brokenness is what I need. Today ... brokenness is what I've got.