Thursday, April 17, 2014

Emotional Suicide

Physical suicide never considered.

Spiritual suicide never entered my mind.

As Lent draws to a close, the scattered pieces of the puzzle are falling into place. The beauty of the picture becomes apparent. Emotional suicide, coming to the end of myself, brokenness redeemed.

I am a broken woman. Broken exposing need; broken so my insides leaked, desires known; broken to be part of community; broken so his light shines. Brokenness seemed to be a theme these past 40 days.

Praying Psalm 139:23 and 24 daily.                                                                                                      Planning an evening of honoring special friends around II Corinthians 4:7.                                      Reading the book below.                                                                                                                      Once again writing about that time in 1997 when I gave up and pulled my mask on tight.                    Reading Holey, Wholly, Holy by Kris Camealy.

These words of Charles Martin from his novel, Unwritten, capture for me part of God’s purpose in

“I used to think that a story was something special. That it was the one key that could unlock the broken places in us. What you hold in your had is the story of a broken writer who attempted to kill himself and failed who meets a broken actress who attempted to kill herself and failed and somewhere in that intersection of cracked hearts and shattered souls, they find that maybe broken is not the end of things, but the beginning. Maybe broken is what happens before you become unbroken. What’s more, maybe our broken pieces don’t fit us. Maybe all of us are standing around with a bag of the stuff that used to be us and we’re wondering what to do with it and until we meet somebody else whose bag is full and heart empty we can’t figure out what to do with our pieces. And standing there, face to face, my bag of me over my shoulder, and your bag of you over your shoulder, we figure out that maybe my pieces are the very pieces needed to mend you and your pieces are the very pieces needed to mend me but until we’ve been broken we don’t have the pieces to mend each other. Maybe in the offering we discover the meaning and value of being broken.” (Italics mine) I love that last sentence.

"There is no shame in brokenness. We are all shattered pieces of the body just trying to heal up and close the holes that sin leaves behind. replacing the darkness with light. Hope lives. Resurrection awaits." Holey, Wholly, Holy page 28.

“And he took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body, which is given to you. Do this in remembrance of me.’” Luke 22:19 (bold, mine)

Easter is coming!

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