I once popped in a worship CD that my friend Mary gave me. (Yep, there are all sorts of Marys in the world! Nope, I’m not referring to my alter ego either.) As the music washed over me, I felt the presence of Jesus. Enough to make me tear up. Our conversation went something like this:
“Lord, I’m tired of living with stress. Tired of feeling the repercussions of France even today. Can’t You make everything easier?”
“If I do, would you need Me?”
I let that sink in. Maybe the reason trials topple on me (and you) is so I will have dependency instead of self-sufficiency. (Click to tweet) So that I’ll need Jesus.
Peace settled over me like a fuzzy blanket on a shivering night.
And then, these words: “Live broken.”
Though I admit this bit of heavenly advice is terribly true, I don’t much like it. I’d rather live whole. Complete. Without worry or stress or painful situations. Without relational discord. Without irksome misunderstandings. Without heartache.
But then where would I be? Happily self-absorbed.
It reminds me of a quote I once found:
“My dear God, I have never thanked You for my thorns. I have thanked You a thousand times for my roses, but not once for my thorns. I have always looked forward to the place where I will be rewarded for my cross, but I have never thought of my cross as a present glory itself. Teach me, O Lord, to glory in my cross. Teach me the value of my thorns. Show me how I have climbed to You through the path of pain. Show me it is through my tears I have seen my rainbows.” L.B. Cowman, Streams in the Desert, p. 147.
It’s true. It’s those broken places where I’ve been pierced by thorns where I understand where my sufficiency lies. In Jesus. (Click to tweet)
Today, would you embrace living broken? Can you thank Jesus for the thorns? I’m doing it right now, as I did yesterday in the car. In the words of LifeHouse:
You’re all I want.
You’re all I need.
You’re everything, everything.
Live broken, folks. Live broken. (Click to tweet)