That still small voice returned with a quiet whisper; “What a blessing it is to be broken”. I stood quietly as the Spirit began to minister to me. Exposing my scaled eyes to hidden sin, impressing truth upon my heart, and laying a heavy, yet freeing grace within my Spirit. It was a methodical, gentle breaking of my heart. My own tears spoke in response “Jesus, please let me be broken”. I wanted it so badly. It had been a long time coming. The season of battling, of hiding, and of fear had been stayed for an extended period; drawn out by the resilience of my own prideful heart. Grace began to step in.

I had idolized obedience, thinking it was the way to the heart of God. I remember the prayers “Jesus, use me however you will. My only response is ‘yes’”. I had tried so hard to be obedient no matter the cost. Stay strong, be courageous, keep it together. I threw obedience on the altar and waited to receive the blessings of Heaven. It didn’t come. “Jesus, you asked me to step into the battle and I obeyed. Why didn’t you protect me? Why do I feel so defeated?” It seemed like he was raising me up to fight for no other purpose than to return again and again more hurt and more wounded than the time before. David stepped into the battle, and he got to kill Goliath. He was made king. That was the deal. I stepped into the battle and got the crap kicked out of me. I tried to conceal that I was hurt. I fashioned a facade of endurance. Unwilling to acknowledge my own wounds, I allowed a heart of flesh to be returned to a heart of stone. For the time being it would mask the pain. Stones don’t feel pain. Flesh bleeds. It allowed me to return to the battlefield again, all the while knowing within my spirit that defeat was again inevitable.

How could a Father allow his child to be hurt like that? Why would he not come to my defense? Why did it seem like I was the only one he was requesting defeat of? Why was I the only one being led into a battle I had no chance of winning? I felt so alone. I refused to take my aching heart to the one whom I viewed responsible for wounding it. He could have my obedience, but he wasn’t about to get my heart. Lips that were once filled with praise, slowly began to close. Mornings once full of whispered prayers, slowly grew quiet. A heart once beating with passion, slowly lost sign of life. He wasn’t going to get my heart. Not like this.

He wasn’t going to see me hurt. I refused to let him see my limp. I had no desire to give him that luxury. Why wasn’t my obedience enough for him? Why did he have to see me weep? What kind of sick God was that? I trudged forward into “another step of obedience,” driven by my resolve to prove to myself and to God that I had it within me to go again. One more round. I can take it. “You see what I am willing to go through for you? I’m getting crushed again and again and again. When will it be enough? When do I get my blessing?!” My pride was addicted to the suffering, yet I had been deceived into believing that it was a sign of my humility.

Yet in this moment, grace caused something to shift within me. The eyes that had long been dry, calmly began to fill with tears. “Jesus I’m so tired of masking this hurt. I’m so tired of numbing the pain. Please just let me be broken.” He brings to mind Psalm 51:17 “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God you will not despise.” A new pain emerges from within my Spirit. The pain of having to acknowledge the sinful areas of my heart while it is simultaneously being exposed to the cleansing grace of my kind and loving Father. Nothing within me can hold back the tears. 2 Corinthians 7:10 “Godly sorrow reaps repentance.” I don’t try to hide this pain. I let it sit, completely exposed before him. I begin to think of how Paul talks about rejoicing in our weaknesses. This is never what I pictured, but I now wonder if this is maybe what he envisioned. Letting Jesus see our tears. Showing him our vulnerabilities. Allowing him to comfort us in our pain. Isaiah 57:15 “I dwell in the high and holy places, but also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit.” This is what he wanted all along. He doesn’t simply want my obedience. He wants to dwell with me. He wants my heart.

So, I will return to the battle. I will again walk the path of obedience. I will again be wounded. I will again be hurt. I may not be hailed the victor. But as far as it resides within the level of grace given to me, I will be hailed a lover of Christ. One, not seeking a certain outcome of my obedience, but instead one who seeks only the blessing that comes from being broken before the Lord. Is it possible that he would call me to be hurt in order that I may experience the transformational grace of knowing him as a comforter? Is it possible that he leads me into defeat, that I may learn to rest not in the confidence of my own ability, but instead in the power of Christ’s Spirit within me? Is it possible that he allows me to walk with a limp, so that I may be able to daily carry within my body the death of Jesus? I hear him whisper again, “what a blessing it is to be broken.”

2 Corinthians 4:8-11 “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.”