It usually happens when it’s dark. That’s when the walls begin to close in. That’s when it’s quiet and it’s hard to avoid the thinking. It comes to the surface. It always does. It’s as if someone took a sledgehammer to my soul.
Burying it doesn’t always work. I’ve tried it. That’s because when I bury something, I bury it alive ---and my heart can always tell.
It starts slowly, a small teardrop falls to the ground; but it makes way for a river. The cry comes from my bowels. The silent scream I’ve held inside is attempting to release weeks, months, even years of unspoken hurt and pain.
What becomes of the brokenhearted?
Who hears our cries? Who tends our pain? And why do we hide it? Why do we do our tears the injustice of denial? Those tears, the ones we all hold onto so tightly, are the hearts attempt to water the dry and empty places of our souls.
Brokenness is costly. But we don’t have to carry it alone. Someone else has already paid the price for it. Someone else really does care about our heart. Someone has already gone before us, making a way. He knows how it feels. And somehow, there is comfort in the knowing that someone else understands. We are not alone.
How do I know? Because my heart has been broken. I’ve walked through shattered dreams, unmet expectations, and that bone-chilling wilderness. And wilderness journeys always require something of us don’t they? That something is our heart.
So I offered mine up as a living sacrifice to the only one who could tend to it with the kind of care I needed. Unfailing love. It’s the only love that can heal a heart that is hemorrhaging. That’s why he came. That’s the message of the cross. Listen to the words of Isaiah 61:1:
“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners….”
What becomes of the brokenhearted?
We have a choice. I had a choice. I said I wanted healing ---but I often chose to walk in the shadows. I said I wanted freedom ---but there were times I chose bondage. I said I believed He was near--- but I didn’t draw nigh.
This is Easter. Resurrection is here. He came to give us a new heart. Something to replace the heart of stone. We must choose wisely, rise up, and let the Savior of mankind give us the gift of unfailing love. One that will never perish, spoil or fade because it was paid for in full. Paid with blood.
Lest we miss it, it cost Him everything.
So read the Easter story. Then read it again--slowly.
Because somewhere along the journey of brokenness, you and I decided some things about the heart of God, and about his willingness to tend to ours. So perhaps this Easter, we need a reminder that God got messy with the storyline of his one and only Son so that you and I will not grow weary and loose heart.
Accept the only gift you need this season. Let him in to bind up your broken heart, and experience resurrection.
Have you given your broken to heart to God? If not, what’s standing in the way?