March 30, 2008 @ 11:17 am | Filed under: Soul Food, The Solid Rock, Uniquely Me

It comes down to this: God’s best is available only to those who sacrifice, or who are willing to sacrifice, the MERELY GOOD. If we are satisfied with good health, responsible children, enjoyable marriages, close friendships, interesting jobs, and successful ministries, we will never hunger for God’s best. We will never worship. I’ve come to believe that only broken people truly worship. Unbroken people - happy folks who enjoy their blessings more than the Blesser - say thanks to God the way a shopper thanks a clerk.” —LARRY CRABB
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I don’t think of myself as a broken woman.

But I do think that once we’ve experienced a true winter of the soul - once we’ve fallen one too many times, once we’ve desperately clung to sanity by a mere shoestring, once we’ve felt the pain of life shattering about us - we are never the same again.

I wouldn’t want to be the same.

I am whole today and, in that wholeness, I am confident, self-assured, and rest entirely in Him. But that wholeness does not hide the scars that my years of brokenness left in their wake.

Instead those very scars serve as daily reminders that I am incomplete and undone on my own.

I never intend to try life on my very own again. Any strength I may have, any gift I may have to offer, is only because of His far-reaching grace and His fathomless love for me.

It’s one thing to trust God in innocence, long before anything bad has ever happened to you.

It’s one thing to trust God theoretically, but yet still attempt to handle the tough stuff on your own.

It’s one thing to trust God in good times, when health, and prosperity, and the richness of relationships make your life a pleasant place in which to lie down.

But once you’ve fallen into a chasm and have been lovingly and heroically rescued, you begin to develop a new trust that’s like no other.

It’s an absolute confidence in His love and in His ability to intervene supernaturally in your life.

It’s not until you’ve experienced a winter of the soul that you learn once and for all the warmth of His arms and the gentle touch of His hands as He begins to bind the wounds and heal the hurt.

The brokenness is gone, but the scars remain behind.

They are all that is left after the harsh, unrelenting winter of the soul. They are the purple hearts of the spiritual battlefields.

If we are courageous enough, and if we can corral our pride enough, these scars have the power to be ongoing testimonies of the heroic rescue of our soul.

I’m not broken.

But I am scarred.

More and more every day I am becoming okay with this.

More and more every day I am wanting to let the wounded, hurting women I encounter know about the Great Rescuer.

God can do a lot with brokenness. He can do a lot with pain. But He can really do very little with our good Christian woman facades.

He wants us to be real.

He wants us to be honest, with Him and with each other.

He wants to bring springtime to souls who’ve fallen prisoner to winter.

He wants to take our brokenness and turn it into beauty.