A Thing About Brokenness

Last Saturday Brian took the boys outside so I could get some needed paperwork done. As I rifled through our bills, trying to get a handle on our current financial situation, I realized that a few months ago, I had made a huge mistake. I couldn’t believe it—this wasn’t like me; I don’t make errors like this. And yet there it was, an oversight that could cost us thousands of dollars. At a time when the monthly budget is already pushed to its limits.

I could feel panic and shame starting to rise.

I took deep breaths. I paced the house. I prayed liked crazy. And with tears in my eyes, I told Brian just how badly I had messed up.

He shrugged. “How much are we talking?”

I told him the number.

“Well, it could be worse.”

I just stared at him. I expected anxiety, anger, outrage—something. I didn’t know what to do with nonchalance.

“Hon, I love you, and I don’t blame you.” He pulled me close and gave me a tight squeeze. “It’s going to be okay. God has provided over and over again.” He leaned back and looked me in the eye. “No mistake you make is too big for him to correct. We’ll just pray about it.”

“I guess,” I said. But I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. Inside, I felt like I had failed my family in a huge, near-unforgiveable way.

*

This week, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to write about. Usually I have some idea, and things start taking shape in the back of my mind as I go about my days. But this week, my thoughts are more scattered than usual. I can’t keep things straight; I’m making mistakes and forgetting details I wouldn’t normally.

This week, I can feel just how broken and exhausted my brain really is. Like a never-ending, lifeless desert.

And I’m learning that it’s okay.

*

After telling Brian about the money situation, I felt the need to go for a run to release some of the tension. I wanted music, and so I began looking for my iPod shuffle. The thing is, I hadn’t seen it in over a year; I’d just been using my phone.

I looked in a few places I thought it might be, but with no luck. So I found myself praying, yet again, for a little lost thing.

I hadn’t even finished the short prayer when I turned my head and saw a sliver of turquoise in the bottom corner of a random Rubbermaid tote in the closest. I opened it up, and sure enough, there it was.

Complete with the charger and my running headphones.

I have NO idea why it was in there. I would never have thought to look there.

And cue the tears.

Because if God cared enough for me to find this small item, how much more did He care about our finances? About providing for us? How many times had he come through for us before?

I felt my panic and anxiety drain away as I held that small, metal player.

It felt a lot like the mustard seed telling the mountain to move.

*

The kingdom of this world screams at us to be unique and self-reliant, to perform, to accomplish big things. It demands we never apologize for who we are yet pushes us to prove our worth.

But these days, with my brain on the fritz and the end of myself never far from reach, I am discovering new and deeper ways that who I am and what I do is almost inconsequential.

What matters is how much He loves me.

Not because of how amazing or self-reliant I am or how much I do for the Kingdom or how spiritual and perfect I am.

But because He formed me in the dark and filled me with His breath and covered me with His blood and loves me with a Love I cannot comprehend.

And this is what makes me worthy of His Goodness.

Not by works, but by Grace.

*

Starting a blog in the middle of a global pandemic while our country started burning itself to the ground and my chronic PTSD was flaring did not seem like a very wise idea.

And I resisted it. I threw every excuse at it.

I told God that my brain was too broken.

But still, I could feel Him stirring my heart. And so, out of obedience, I wrote. First one post, then another, and then another.

And He’s met me in the process every time. Even in the weeks when I don’t have words to share, I share His.

In all honesty, I sometimes look back at previous posts, and I have no memory of writing them. Such is life with CPTSD.

But that’s a thing about brokenness: He uses it.

*

Yesterday, I fasted and prayed. Today I made some calls. I apologized and pled my case; I prayed a lot.

And by the grace of God, all those thousands of dollars we were on the hook for—they’ve been taken care of.

My past mistakes have been cleared.

We owe nothing.

*

Jesus, at the Last Supper, took the bread—the symbol of his body—and broke it. And then blessed it.

Today we are the living, breathing body of Christ. Which means, in this upside-down Kingdom, to be broken is to be blessed.

And when we—no matter how whole we may or may not be—live surrendered to Him, He takes our mistakes and failures and weaknesses and turns them into something more beautiful than we can imagine.

Our deserts give way to Life as He shines through in ways we never would have seen had we continued to cover ourselves up and hide away.

In our weakness, He is strong.

Not because of anything you did or didn’t do.

But because He formed you in the dark and filled you with His breath and covered you with His blood and loves you with a Love you cannot comprehend.

Your past, present, and future mistakes are cleared. In the currency of the Kingdom, you owe nothing.

Not by works, but by Grace.

Because here, where the mustard seed wins against the mountain, all is Grace.