I remember back in youth group we used to sing a song called “Holiness.” It started with, “Holiness, holiness is what I long for. Holiness is what I need,” and went on to use “righteousness,” “faithfulness,” and “brokenness” subsequently. For a long time I sang it without thought to what I was actually saying. On one evening, during practice for worship team, one of the other leaders brought up the line about brokenness. He posed the question, “How many of us really desire to be broken? And if we don’t, then I don’t feel like we should be singing it.” After a brief discussion of what it meant to truly be broken, we all, rather reluctantly, agreed that we were in fact
not asking God for it, and until we were, we would not include that verse. As a group that leads others into worship, how could we possibly sing something like that without meaning behind it? It is one thing to ask God to make us holy, righteous, and faithful, but it is stepping into another realm when you ask for him to break you.
Psalm 51:16-17 says, “You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”
Brokenness has often brought to mind a dejected, possession-less missionary in the bush; someone always giving things away without thought; or even Mother Theresa. I’ve always felt that I had a long way to go before I could fit into any of those.
Living in America we are taught that wealth is power and frugality is for the weak. How then can we desire to be broken regularly? If we ask for a heart for poor, than we are expected to give money to charities or worse, help feed, clothe, or house them ourselves! If we ask for a heart for the sick, than we are expected to go pray over them or help nurture them back to health. If we ask for a heart for the despairing, than we are expected to reach out to the self-mutilators, comfort the depressed, or witness to the drunkards and drug addicts. All of these things instill at least a hint of fear in me. For some it is the fear of letting go of materialistic pleasures; for others it is the fear of unpredictable people; and others still, it is the fear of falling into their situations. Jesus did not come to earth to be the most powerful
man by human standards, or to climb the financial ladder. Jesus came in humility to be a servant and when the time came, lowered himself to the point of taking
our place on the cross. I can’t go feed spaghetti to the homeless, yet Jesus was willing to give up his very life for ME!
The idea of brokenness and that song has rather stuck with me throughout the years. I have often caught myself singing worship songs only to ask if what I am singing is accurate to where my heart is. After years of omitting the line about brokenness, I have finally come to a place of including it. My God has called me to a point of which I
honestly desire to be broken. I am opening my heart up to what this year will entail, and I know it will not all be fun and games. I know that many tears will be shed for the poor, the sick, and the despairing. I know that I will come back a changed person. I
am still a bit fearful, but now the fear lies in the
reality of what I am doing. The fear stems from thinking I may not have enough to give, that my prayers may not be strong enough, that my witness may not be bright enough. But the
peace lies in knowing that God takes us from where we are, [if we are willing] breaks us, and then molds us into an image more likened to his own.
One wedding down; one to go.
