Tag: brokenness

Discipleship for the Brokenhearted

Broken heart
Broken heart

“Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering.

There is a crack in everything.

That’s how the light gets in.”

 –Leonard Cohen, Anthem

“A crack in everything.” As a broken person I appreciate hearing the wisdom of this particular poet. I am intensely aware of being very different then others. I worked my way through college frying donuts and it was a challenge. After about six months my boss was telling everyone that, “Bryan is one of the most eccentric people I have ever met.”

I was not trying to be odd, or eccentric. I was taking “Greek” at the time and knew that eccentric was a contraction (of ek, meaning “off, or the one side,” and “centros,” meaning, “center”). He was basically saying that I was “off centered”. That really troubled me because I always felt like I was a very well-balanced person and fit in.

The above poem tells us certain things, it holds a simple truth. First, there are bells that can’t be used, they don’t work anymore. Second, we need to “get real” and to understand that “a perfect offering” is beyond our capability.

Maybe 20 years ago idealism would’ve carried the day for us. But, as we get older, we have figured out a thing or two, but by the time you turn 50, you start carrying a total other awareness of things. By then we see the cracks in everything, nothing has gone by untouched, or unscathed.

But the poet states a paradoxical truth, “that’s how the light gets in.” To learn this is to turbocharge your recovery. It takes your recognition of the reality of being a broken person. It also summons up a discernment of how we must grow spiritually.

I find that the broken, weak, burned-out people are closer to the Kingdom then the strong, suave and gifted. This is an incredible truth, we must see our brokenness is in all the right places. You see, that is how the light gets in.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
    he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”

Psalm 34:18

ybic, Bryan

 

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The Ugly Tree

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Several years have passed, and I mark out each day with a silent wish. I look across the road and I see something that doesn’t belong. A tree that is hideous; a tree beyond any kind of symmetry, a tree that is very ugly. It’s beyond any kind of redemption. It is bad, and needs to be cut down. It is an eyesore.

When I see it, I’m aggravated. It never, ever really belongs. I dream of sneaking past the road and chopping it down. I want it to fall. Why should it blight my eyes? Why should I allow it to obstruct my view of the wonderful mountains? It is all wrong. (I rejoice at every wind-storm.)

But sometimes, God will speak to me through the “Ugly Tree.” There is a moment when we just might see something beyond the normal. It stands, because He made it so. Could not the Father have made it His “visual aid” just for me?

  • In my own personal sin and twistedness, could I be the spiritual version of “the ugly tree?”
  • Could the cross of Jesus be “the ugly tree?” The place where He absorbed all our sin?

Both seem to be relevant to me.

As I type this I’m looking across the road. Maybe it should stay as it reminds me of who I am and how much the cross means to me. Perhaps it should stay.

ybic, Bryan

 

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No Monkey

“What are these scars from?” she asked.

“They’re battle wounds.” I replied.

She looked at me a long time.

“Who were you battling?”

“Myself.” I replied.

My thinking this morning is how long does the battle have to go on? It seems far too long (and lately tedious). If my life had a sound-track, it probably be a very bland and dull roar, punctuated periodically by maniacal laughter. I hope yours is better than mine.

My battle with mental illness has scarred me for life. I can’t seem to put enough varnish on it to be presentable. I’m aware of all these things. And saddened that it has to be this way. My favorite author is Anne Lamott. She once made this observation, “You can get the monkey off your back, but the circus never leaves town.” Monkeys are one thing, the circus is another.

“We walk by faith, not by sight,” my Bible tells me so. Each new day has faith embossed in it. Hebrews 11 tells me that many have gone before me, but they had to journey by faith through pain and suffering. Knowing this, I sometimes feel like “jumping ship.”

I hope you don’t regard me as unduly self-absorbed. Astonishingly, my meds aremonkey1 finally working. Life isn’t caustic any more, just mildly abrasive. But I am still a bit unhappy about my attitude. I thought that these meds would make me incredibly normal, but instead I feel blah.

But blah is good. The terror of running amok through another manic phase scares me thoroughly. Anything is better than that. No monkey, but still a circus. But I’m fully known by the One who loves me the most. Jude talks about being “safe.” This is our responsibility.

“But you, dear friends, must build each other up in your most holy faith, pray in the power of the Holy Spirit, 21 and await the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will bring you eternal life. In this way, you will keep yourselves safe in God’s love.”

Jude 20-21

aabryscript

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The Clinic is Open

In the late part of the 1800s, a London Times journalist asked ten of the brightest men in England this question, “What is wrong with the World?”  One of these men responded,

“Dear Sirs,  I am.

Signed, G.K. Chesterton.”

Chesterton had been incredibly convinced of his own depravity.  He knew the evil that waited for him, lusting for him in the next room–or the very next set of circumstances.  G.K. had no illusions about the sin, a ravenous sin that could seize him at the drop of a hat–springing up, and devouring him.  In the moral and spiritual landscape, he wasn’t the predator, no!  He was the prey.

In my own walk of following Jesus, I must deal with certain issues.  I want to stress this–I have a mental illness but, it is not a spiritual illness.  But  that is not completely true either.  We all are spiritually ill, everyone of us, made sick by sin–and Satan is volunteering to be our doctor!

Redcross On a different level, the kingdom of darkness is working to keep me spiritually sick.  The Prince (or chief physician) of that evil has intentions to malnourish and to erode my spiritual health.  His form of smallpox, and his version of the measles corrupt and sicken me.

I guess I’m in a quandary.  Who should treat me?  I find myself trying to see both.  I have periods when I favor one treatment plan–and then I abruptly make an appointment  to see the competing healthcare provider.  I vacillate and it carries me right in the dynamic tension of Romans chapter 7:5, 14-15.

5 “When we were controlled by our old nature, sinful desires were at work within us, and the law aroused these evil desires that produced a harvest of sinful deeds, resulting in death. So the trouble is not with the law, for it is spiritual and good. The trouble is with me, for I am all too human, a slave to sin. 15 I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate.”

I’m at the place; and perhaps, the age, to work out some kinks in my heart–and my thinking.  And I scare myself.  There is such a dynamic working over me, that compels me to seek Jesus for his help.  My soul is sickened– a wrong diet of choices, habits, attitudes– all in an “overheated culture that is pounding and cajoling and maneuvering, like some “used car salesman” all on a spiritual level.

“True” holiness, not the religious kind, is our daily destiny. Mixed with grace, it becomes something that pleases our Father.

Dear ones, please hold on to your faith and love in our Lord Jesus.  We must fear God enough to do this.  We must hate sin even more.

“I am more afraid of my own heart than of the pope and all his cardinals. I have within me the great pope, self.”

–Martin Luther

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