Broken

Have you ever been broken? I mean truly, completely, without hope and irreparably broken? Your soul pours out of a fractured heart, tears cascade in floods from swollen eyes, and no touch nor word can reach you. That's broken.

We all deserve to be broken; some of us have been, the rest of us will be.

Christ was broken for us, and if we are to accept His salvation, we must be broken for Him. That which is in us, and is us, must, without doubt and exception, be completely broken if we are to have the hope of His healing touch. We must die to ourselves in order to live through Him. If that is not broken, I don't know what is.

What does it feel like to be broken? Lonely. Agonizing. Guilt, shame, disgust . . . The list goes on. It is a miserable, wretched experience; and it can seem to go on forever. The stronger we are, the harder we break. But when the breach occurs . . . It is cataclysmic. Everything gives at once; our very foundations seem to give way beneath us. We are in free fall.

But do you know what is on the other side? Grace. Mercy. Forgiveness. Peace. Rest. All there, waiting for us to give up on ourselves and rely on Christ. He is waiting, waiting to wipe away every tear, heal every wound, mend every broken and fractured piece of our soul.

Waiting for us to break.

How Far Have You Gone?

Where I live, hunting is a Fall ritual in which I eagerly and wholeheartedly participate. For me, it is a sport of camaraderie and friendship, physical and mental challenge, and an opportunity to partake of the beauty of God's creation. It also provides some interesting lessons.

Yesterday, I harvested a banded Canada goose. The band was worn thin, tarnished by time and weather; this was obviously an old goose. I was excited to report the band and find out where this goose had started life. Bands are often collected from all over the United States and even Canada. I anticipated learning that my goose had, at least from her perspective, seen the world. I was wrong.

She was banded in 2002 in Manito, Illinois. That was less than 10 miles (as a goose flies) from where I hunted. In all likelihood, she had never moved beyond a 50 mile radius, and perhaps much less, in those 12 years. Canadian geese used to migrate, breeding and nesting in the northern US, wintering in the South and even Mexico. But there is an emerging pattern in the goose population where geese never migrate. They find a place where they are comfortable, and stay there their entire lives. They are called resident geese, and are the ones you see around golf courses, urban fountain pools, etc. They never go very far from where they began life, and they teach their offspring the same. That got me thinking.

How many of us appear to have gone far in our lives, but in reality never wander far from where we started? I am not speaking of geography, but rather growth and maturity. We are created to, metaphorically speaking, go places and do things. God's design is for us to travel a path which leads us far from where we begin in our beliefs and understanding of Him to a place of maturity and service. But many never do. Just like those resident geese, we become complacent in a place where we are comfortable, and because of that, miss out on the opportunities and challenges which lead us to greater growth. We become a population of resident Christians because we never go anywhere, and through our example, we teach our children to do the same.

This is a dangerous pattern, and one we must resist. Never stop growing, moving, changing. Face challenges as opportunities for growth and maturity. You might just be surprised by where God takes you.

Absence Makes The Heart Grow . . . Fainter

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

That little gem of wisdom has been around for eons, and still has the ring of truth to it. But, as with all things, too much of a good thing is, well, not good.

First, let's examine the truth of the saying. Scientific study has given credence to our little ditty above mentioned; absence does in fact make the heart grow fonder. When an object of desire is removed from our reach, we desire it all the more. We've all experienced this, whether it be time away from a spouse, child or friend, or perhaps the longing of Summer during the cold grip of Winter. Taken away from that which we long to hold close, we yearn ever so strongly to have it returned.

Until time takes its toll.

When said desire is taken from us too far, too long, too often, we begin to replace it. This is our nature, our way; when it comes to fulfilling desires of the heart, our attention span quickly wanes. Our hearts, our desires will be fulfilled, if not with that which we originally sought, then with something else. Nature, and the human psyche, abhor a vacuum. The voids within us labeled as desires will be filled, one way or another.

This is all to say that while temporary absence makes the heart grow fonder, prolonged absence leads the longing of the heart to grow faint. Stories of long-lost lovers notwithstanding, long distance relationships face an uphill battle. And distance need not be measured by miles.

Whether it be in your relationship with your spouse, child, family, friends, or God--take pains to keep your absences short. The resulting emptiness, if too long unattended, will surely be drifted over by something else. And rarely are replacement parts as good as the original.