Before I left on the World Race, I said to myself and others that I wanted my heart to break for what breaks the Lord’s. And I truly meant it, but shoooot, now it’s crazy to me that I said that – how could I have known the weight of what I was saying?
I remember the first time it all really slapped me in the face.
It was December in Thailand. We spent our last week of ministry on the island of Phuket, working at a church. We were worshipping and interceding on the beach one night, and later on walked through the red light district in Patong Beach, where many tourists spend their nights. There are clubs and bars lining the streets, loud music that pounds your ears, random little souvenir shops, and even a McDonald’s here and there. From a distance, it seems like a fun atmosphere, with loud music, good restaurants, and fun lights. It just seems like tourist night life, until you actually walk through the streets. There is a heaviness, a darkness, a weight that the brokenness of that place takes on your soul. There are people standing every 10 feet waving advertisements for strip club shows with basically naked woman all over it. They’ll wave it in your face, no matter who you are, with big smiles on their faces, as they are unaware that the women on the posters are sisters, daughters, friends, real people, and that what they’re advertising is so deeply rooted in evil. They have no idea, simply because this is what they have grown up with or come to know, and it’s just a normal part of their every day life. It’s hard to think of it that way, but it really is true. Why should they think any other way? A sense of morality is deeply lost in this place, and to discover it seems only like bondage instead of true freedom.
It hit me again walking through the government hospitals in Africa. As I walk through, there is a strong stench of body odor, blood, pee, and sweat. Beds line the room, and there are stains on the wall. For a hospital, it’s not a very clean place. There is a sense of overwhelming sadness and hopelessness as I look into their eyes, a sense of grief and pain. Loved ones gather around some beds, and others lay alone, some wailing, some sleeping. I want to be able to wave a magic wand and heal them all, but there simply isn’t a wand. I can tell them about hope, about true joy in the Lord, about peace, but really, how can I, as I stand before them, healthy and hopeful as they writhe in pain because their medicine isn’t working, and they aren’t getting the medical attention they need? Life isn’t meant to be lived on a hospital bed in pain, it’s meant to be abundant and beautiful.
It slapped me again when we visited an orphanage in Malawi. We had some sweet times and played lots of fun games, sang songs, and drew pictures together. Each orphan is so beautiful and so sweet. As I hang out with them, I remember that they don’t have a home, they don’t have a mother or father who loves them deeply, and they don’t have anyone they can truly trust. I am only a short term person that visits them a few times, and I cannot continue telling them they are deeply cherished or loved every day. It breaks my heart. I want to find them a home immediately and give them a safe place. I want to hold each one tight and never let them go. Life isn’t meant to be lived alone.
I could go on and on and on, and even on and on about the brokenness I’m discovering in myself. There is an overwhelming sense of loss, pain, heartache, grief, and sorrow just about everywhere I look. It’s hard to know what to do with it all, how to process it all, how to not question who God is and where He is in this brokenness.
I am someone who likes to look on the bright side and find the joyful things in life. I can also be someone who tries to avoid pain and avoid the reality of brokenness in this world and it’s been so tempting for me to simply avoid the weight that I feel inside of my soul. It’s much simpler to let myself be numb to it, much simpler to not think about it, much simpler to somehow find a way to block it out so I don’t have to feel the raw pain.
But there’s also a lot of truths in the brokenness too, and if I try and avoid the pain, I’ll miss out on the truths God has for me in that moment, and the way He wants to reveal Himself to me and push me and grow me. Those are things I don’t want to miss out on. It’s hard to make myself just sit in this place of brokenness and someone how try and see it as beautiful. It’s simply not. How do I even begin to trust a God I cannot see when all of this brokenness surrounds me and seems to be never ending?
I am learning that there is a brokenness and dissatisfaction built into our souls because we were created for something more. We were created to live abundantly, to live with God, and were created in a perfect world to begin with. When Adam (the first man) sinned, brokenness happened, and it separated us from God. And man oh man, that just really stinks. C’mon Adam!!
But this brokenness only points to a need for a Savior. It shouts that we are not enough, that we are totally imperfect, and that we crave more. It shouts all sorts of things that I’ll never have enough words to describe, but thankfully, I don’t have to.
I don’t have to because there is a God who sees and a God who is good, despite what the world might scream. He is a Father who loves deeply, and a Creator who knows each one by name, and even knows the amount of hair on each person’s head. And His heart is also breaking. He doesn’t like the brokenness any more than I do. It kills Him when He sees beautiful children without a home, people that are sick, people that are living without the hope He has to offer. It absolutely breaks His heart, more than I’ll ever be able to comprehend, and His heart is more broken than mine ever will be.
When I reflect on this place of brokenness, it kills me and it breaks me and it really isn’t any fun. But I can’t forget that this is only a fraction of how the Lord feels too. When I press into it instead of run away, the Lord takes me into a deeper compassion, a greater empathy, and a zealous love for those around me. It causes me to cling to the Father and to His hope and to His love on a whole new level. It helps me to remember what hope really means. It enables me to come back to the fact of what the Gospel truly is, that this God cared so deeply that He sent His son, Jesus, to die on the cross for me and for each person in this world, so that the brokenness didn’t have to separate anyone anymore. So the world could have hope. So each person could get to live knowing they are loved, they have purpose, and they can have eternal life if they choose to believe. When I remember these things, it fuels the fire of devoting my life to my Creator who loves so incredibly and so deeply.
But the brokenness, I’m sad to say won’t ever end on this side of life. It’s not going to leave me, and it’s not going to leave anyone else. It’s going to keep breaking my heart. It’s going to keep slapping me in the face and I know I will continue to doubt and have many questions.
But I will continue to press in, because I know that God’s heart is breaking too. I will continue to lift these burdens to Him, because He truly does care. I will continue to be broken, and He will heal, even if it isn’t till I get to see Him face to face.
And for that, I am forever grateful. I am forever grateful that He cares and loves so much His heart breaks, and that I get to grow to know Him more and more each day. I am forever grateful that He truly satisfies, and am continually learning that nothing else ever will. I am forever grateful that His gift of love and eternal life is a free gift to all, and that I get to spend my whole life in awe of it.
And you know what? I hope my heart never stops breaking, and that your heart will break too, because it is in those places that the Lord continues to call us deeper and make us whole.
