Safe.

Safe.

Cling tightly my child to the standards and rules set before you.
Walk lightly through trials, lest you make light of forgiveness offered to you.

Tightropes and trapeze
try to say the right things
and walk the "clear path" set before you.
But blindness makes things awful hard to see and
legalism does nothing but blind you.

Through my life I've been told,
"rules are there to keep you safe"
Sometimes I feel they are there to restrain me.
But restraining sounds an awful lot like chains and
Jesus broke chains to free me.

Grace.

It's offered to every man once he opens his eyes to believe it.
It breaks chains, shines light in great darkness,
reaches places you never thought you'd see it.

But the best part of grace is the hearts that it changes,
I could give you examples in mine.
And it stops being about the rules, tightropes, and lines
and more about striving to love Him.

Safe.

A word not commonly used by people in my situation.
For is grace is an ocean, my comfort a boat,
I'd fall overboard in an instant.

For as much as my sin has been broken and lost,
so the rules and the acts have too. -
For it's no longer living to impress this safe world,
It's living to love and trust you.

I'm living to love and trust you.

Kintsugi

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with lacquer resin dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. Philosophically, speaking to breakage and repair becoming part of the history of an object, rather something to disguise.

To repair with gold.

I think that Kintsugi is something undoubtedly inspired by God. Created for us to see how He deals with our brokenness.

As a Christian, neither you or I is promised a free pass from brokenness in our lives.
I've been there. I've lost people I love to the world and further. I'm losing them now in sickness and in schemes from the prince of this earth. I've lost myself. I've thought I lost God. I've lost love, broken engagements, lost dear dear friends due to my selfish actions. Lost my mind. Tried to lose my life. Broken my own heart. Allowed it to be broken again and again. Given away all that was dear to me.

I've literally laid myself down on a tile floor sobbing because I was so, so utterly lost and alone and broken.

An expert on kintsugi said, "Not only is there no attempt to hide the damage, but the repair is literally illuminated..."

How often I see that in my own life.

How beautifully I see that looking back on those things that once had me so broken.

How fondly I look back on that day, on that tile floor, when I looked up and begged God to fix it. Send me something that wouldn't break me like everything else in my life had.

And he didn't.

Instead, in that moment (and those following) He sent me one of my best friends and sisters in Christ. A woman who has such a heart after God, and for others that it amazes me sometimes. Who constantly and consistently encourages me to love God, to love people, and to write. Who has sat with me as I poured my heart out at noon, midnight, and 3am. And who has loved me not only despite every mistake, but because of every mistake. Who sees my beauty in my brokenness. A piece of my kintsugi.

He has since sent to me a friend who I was able to share part of my story with. Who looked at life not believing there even could be a god. Who looked at my brokenness and how beautiful HE made me, and was given a glimmer of hope that He is real. And He's alive and He's doing great and unimaginable things with the least of these in the world. A piece of my kintsugi.

He has given me grace to forgive people who have contributed greatly to my brokenness, who discouraged me, who led me down paths I pray no one else will ever have to set foot on. He has given me strength to love them and tell them about Jesus, and why I don't hang out on Saturday nights anymore. A piece of my kintsugi.

God doesn't try to cover up my damage. He doesn't make me forget the pain. He doesn't make sure it never comes up in conversation again.

He makes it beautiful.
He makes it His.

He illuminates my brokenness for His glory alone, to show that even through this mess, even through these ashes, through every crack,beauty exists.

Amidst My Brokenness

I've been a little bit of a mess lately. I've been a little sad and angry and empty.

Sometimes I wonder how God can let bad things happen to some of the most beautiful and strong people I know. I've been struggling a lot as I watch one of my best friends struggle with a disease where the average life expectancy gives her about 15 more years. I am broken at the lack of support of the people around her sometimes. I am broken when she doesn't want to do her treatments around me, because she's worried about how I feel about them. I am broken that I can't better understand what she's going through. I am broken that I can't help more.

I am frustrated and confused on what God's plans for my life are. Why is He allowing me so much time that I see as wasted. Why can't I just know where He wants me and what I am supposed to be. Why can't He give me answers and clarity and peace. Sometimes it breaks me that I can't control my future.

I break after work some days as I watch parents holding onto hope that their child can learn to eat and live and survive days without medication and nursing and extra. As they rejoice in apple juice swallows and potty training victories. Sometimes it breaks me that I can't fix him.

And it's funny. Amidst my brokenness, I learn that it's okay to be broken. The author of Psalm 102 is so broken.

"For my days pass away like smoke,
and my bones burn like a furnace.
My heart is struck down like grass and has withered;
I forget to eat my bread.
Because of my loud groaning
my bones cling to my flesh...
I lie awake;
I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop....
For I eat ashes like bread
and mingle tears with my drink..."

So broken they forget to eat. So broken they describe their heart as withered, their flesh as plaster. Their nights endless and demeanor lonely.

And it's so so comforting that someone else has been there too.

And it's so so comforting that their response is a reminder of the faithfulness of an everlasting and all knowing God that loves me.

I still get angry sometimes. Angry that God would let people be sick. Angry that God would let orphans die alone and unknowing of love. Angry that God would let people go their years, even their whole lives without knowing what their passions and callings are. But then I realize, maybe I'm not angry at God. Maybe I'm broken. Maybe God is changing my heart for those sick, to comfort them. To sit with them and laugh and sometimes cry and live life alongside them. Maybe God is changing my heart for the unloved, to teach and show them love in all the ways I can think of. To show them grace that Jesus has shown me. To show them the love that He has shown me.

And crazy as it may be, maybe that's my passion, maybe that's my calling. I am here to show Jesus. I am here to show love. To spread comfort and peace and grace, just as I have been shown.

I wish my college major could be love.

But maybe that's why I'm in "nursing limbo" to learn love better. To learn to be a peacemaker. To emit Jesus like it is my job, because in His eyes, the only ones that matter, it is.

"But you, O Lord, are enthroned forever;
you are remembered throughout all generations...
Of old you laid the foundation of the earth,
and the heavens are the work of your hands.
They will perish, but you will remain;
they will all wear out like a garment.
You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away,
but you are the same, and your years have no end.
The children of your servants shall dwell secure;
their offspring shall be established before you."