Beautiful Broken

What if we could see the beautiful in our broken?  What if we could lay out the pieces of every shard and recognize how each fits into the redemptive story He has written on our behalf?

So often my broken is something that I run from.  Something that has me running in fear and hiding in the shame, hiding in the mess that my broken has made.  Shard pieces of me that can cut and bleed.

What if we weren’t meant to run from the shattered?  What if we were to collect every last fragment and carry them with us and lay them down at the foot of the cross?

I see Him there – His spirit breaking.  

I see the blood-sweat soaking the ground where his body bends low to the ground in agony.  He groans His broken to the God who can take this cup from Him.

Not my will… but yours… 

And all of the broken unfurls into arms outstretched.  Broken spirit.  Broken body.

There between the nails He holds all of my broken to be made unbroken because He has declared it finished.  

When the remnants of burial lay empty in the tomb the beginning of my unbroken began.  The beginning of my life began.  His shed blood filled the cracks of my laid out shards and mended my broken into beautiful redemption.

My broken made unbroken. 

My mess made clean. 

My life made whole. 


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