Beautifully Broken

Let me tell you a story of a girl.  For now, we’ll call her Sissy, and her story goes something like this…

Born and raised in a nice family with a nice house in a nice neighborhood, Sissy lived in outward perfection.  But there was something different about Sissy.  She could feel it.  She looked up to her brother, wished she was funny and thin like he was.  She loved her mother, a stay-at-home mom for many years of her life.  Her lifeline, that’s what her mom was until the day she began to work.  Her father, even now as she looks back on her life, she wishes she knew him better.

But life happened.  Her nice family, her nice house, and not even her nice things could prevent her from the falling of the world.  Satan spoke lies to her, lies of her inconvenience, of being unworthy, and of being alone.  The working world had robbed her of her mother and father.  After all, money, she learned, didn’t grow on trees.  It was just an unfortunate coincidence, maybe, that she didn’t have many friends at school and the friendship with her brother that she so desired.  The glass casing around her heart–a covering like that over a brand new toy–the devil crushed it with his lies.  Trying to gain what was forever lost, Sissy clutched the shards of broken glass until the pain she felt and the tears she shed justified the torment required by the lies she accepted as truth.

This is who Sissy was: a broken girl in a broken world that, to the world, denied she was broken.  Perfection was the veneer she wore and the burden she carried.

Never did she realize that her burden had already been carried, taking the form of a cross on a despised man’s back.  Her law and justification through torment, little did she know that these also were paid in full as the same despised man was nailed to the cross he had carried.  And though He–the very Son of God–died on that cross of the world, He defeated death, and He defeated Satan, Sissy still carried her own.  With His outpouring of faith, hope, and love, Jesus Christ even defeated every lie of Satan; however, Sissy didn’t know this either, at least not yet.

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That is the beginning of my story, but it is certainly not the end.  Had God–the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit–had each of these not intervened in my life, only God knows where I’d be today.

But God came to me, and He poured words of Truth into the depths of my soul.  “There’s a crack in everything,” He said, “that’s how the Light gets in.”  He even taught me the truth of a verse that I had often heard yet simply skipped over.

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness.

Therefore, I will boast of my weaknesses so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

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I live a story much different than that from my beginning.  And though I often trace the scars in my hands and even seek for the shards that left them, I stop and close my eyes.  I feel my heart beating and know that I love because He first loved me (1 John 4:10).  I remember that I am broken, yet I am beautifully broken for through this brokenness, the power of Christ rests upon me.