Day 2: Finding a New Meaning in Brokenness

I looked up "Broken" in BlueLetterBible.org (new.best.friend.),  and at least one of the Hebrew words that we translate as broken (the word "dakah") comes up 5 times in the Old Testament!

THIS IS SO EXCITING!!!!

I was starting to wonder as I thought about this topic if broken was just a "feeling/Christianese" word. I knew it was mentioned in the Bible, but I have been guilty of overusing it into a no-meaning, skeletal existence.

But there is meaning. And I'm getting hints that this meaning might change me.

I'll talk more about some of these verses later hopefully, but for now, I'll just leave ya with 'em. The words in the brackets are my attempt to try to fill us in on the context . . . think of them as commentary . . . sorta.

Psalm 10:10
The helpless are crushed [broken], sink down, and fall by his [the wicked man's] might.

Psalm 38:8
I am feeble and crushed [broken] [because of sin]; I groan because of the tumult of my heart.

Psalm 44:19
[We have not done wrong] yet You have broken us in the place of jackals and covered us with the shadow of death.

Psalm 51:8
Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have broken [because of my sin] rejoice.

Psalm 51:17
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken  and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

It's interesting that these verses are all in the Psalms. David knew brokenness well . . . may the God of this incredible man teach me something about it through this month. I've got a lot to learn.

Day 1: 31 Days of Brokenness

Sweet, sweet October. She is birthed into sunshine, and even in her baby stage, she sends me out on adventure.

Today begins the 31 day blogging adventure. I'm joining hundreds of women. We've picked different topics, and we're writing on them. Thirty-one days.

Last year, I wrote on Prayer and wow. What a life-changing gift. I brainstormed this year wondering what I could possibly write about for 31 days. I want a topic that will change me, something that could maybe impact others too. "Meaningful is most Memorable," somebody said once upon a time.

So, while I was brainstorming, brokenness came to mind amongst a lieu of random ideas. But I snagged on that one. Brokenness.

I'm not even sure what that means.

I have heard about Jesus' body being BROKEN Bread.

I've read about how the the Lord is near to those with BROKEN hearts.

I've said that I'm BROKEN countless times and have heard the word ping-ponged in Christian circles.

But what does it mean to be broken?

What does it mean to LOVE the broken?

Is brokenness something I'm called to or called out of?

How are brokenness and humility intertwined? Or are they?

What are we really describing when we say "brokenness?" Is it just an abstract concept or are there other words?

So I'm left with questions and a wild adventure ahead of me. I don't imagine this will be easy, but I hope it will be worth it.

So Lord? Would You please guide these words? Would You allow me into this conversation with You? And Jesus, if it takes my brokenness to understand this more fully and to be who You want me to be, . . . please . . . break me. You know my reluctance in asking for this. That prayer is hard. But I am Yours, and You are trustworthy. On to adventures? I love You.
Simply Yours

So until tomorrow, I leave you with this:

God uses broken things. It takes broken soil to produce a crop, broken clouds to give rain, broken grain to give bread, broken bread to give strength. It is the broken alabaster box that gives forth perfume. It is Peter, weeping bitterly, who returns to greater power than ever.                                     Vance Havner
  

You Desire to Show Compassion

It's taking me minutes made of minuscule millenniums to read the pages for Theology Proper tomorrow, the words meshing together and my brain forgetting them after I've read them.
Junior year of college.
Tired brain.

And so I wake up my sleeping laptop and find myself in front of an open blog page, waiting to be filled, and somewhere I have a list of all the things I've been wanting to blog about, like how Jesus has taught me about His love and dependence. About how I want to let go of being so controlling. About "embracing the lonely".

When I have the time.

Uh huh.

So I write when I don't have the time. Always. Smile.

 Can I share with you about Isaiah and how it wrecked me this summer? Because I think it will be easier for me to blog then read for an assignment due tomorrow. Snap-Crack-It! (It will get done, don't worry!) Anyway, . . . back to this summer.

Summer seems miles behind me as I'm buried in school work and nestled in a home away from my home 2 hours away, but summer was filled with graces and rough patches.

I entered summer in a daze, just finishing an exhausting semester, broken, worn-out, lost.

I had lost Jesus in the book work, in the deadlines, in trying to rescue my world on my own. I missed Him, and I blamed it on Bible college.

But really, I was the one who had ceased to pound on His door.

Summer propelled me into small town living with family and a job that kept me busy from 8am - 5pm, sometimes later. I worked at a Radiator Shop and learned to recognize RV parts and classic rock songs. I drove a pickup truck with pistols in the door and hunting logos on the window. Within a week, I went from studying the Bible as my occupation to studying Monaco's surplus items. I had gone from hearing words like egalitarian, complimentarian, canonical books, Colossians to dimple tubes, air condensers, re-cores, and radiators. 

I was exhausted at the end of the long days and struggled to invest in my family, and they felt dejected. I felt overwhelmed, flailing and failing.

And Jesus saved me through a gentle lake on quiet mornings and the book of Isaiah.

There is a GORGEOUS lake only a few minutes from the Radiator Supply House, and in the early morning, it lays clear and expansive, quiet. Towards the middle of the summer, Jesus and I spent some time by that lake, and we opened up Isaiah and God revealed Himself as the God of Compassion.

I had struggled to see His interaction in my life, and I was wondering if I had blown it, if I was even really walking with Him. And while I had blown it, He blew me away with His grace.

Because in the end, He desires to show compassion.

The Jewish people consistently walked away from YHWH. He knew it. He disciplined them for it. Again. And Again. And Again. Isaiah's full of this talk.

But His heart was always in saving that remnant. He longed/longs to have compassion.

And that helped wound me into healing.

Because if this is really true, then what if my situation and my brokenness weren't hopeless? What if He was longing to show compassion, to bring me back to Himself? What if this was His end goal, and what if His end goals are always completed?

What if God really is the One working in us for His good pleasure? What if He is the One who equips us for His good work? (Heb 13:21-22)

What if we're really not in charge of leading our relationship with Him, but instead, He's the One that desires to lead us and bring us through our discrepancies into integrity, and He will --- if we let Him?

What if His compassion is stronger than our continual falls?

What if He really does want the best for us who love Him?

Compassion.

God relates to us through His compassion, through the fact that He is slow to anger, abounding in love. He remains just. Pure.

It was a process, but Jesus began awakening my soul and restoring it as He showed me more fully who He is. He is a God who desires to show me personally His compassion, His love. Through learning more of His character and of His incredible love, I began to have a little more purpose and more reliance on Him as I worked at the Radiator Shop. I was able to speak about Jesus like I knew Him, because I was beginning to really get to know Him.

Jesus filled me with His love this summer.

Or maybe I should say, Jesus began working in me this summer in restoration, in love-filling. And I don't want to forget that.

Especially as I'm back in this absurd little world called Bible College. :) I want to remember His love and His compassion. I want to know the Person, not just the descriptions, and that He desires to personally interact with me. He does so in compassion.

This God we serve is absolutely mind-blowing. "Oh what love!"

Well, I better wrap this up. I still need to get some Theology reading done, but I'm glad for the reminder to keep my eyes on the God of our Theology. The God of powerful compassion.







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Broken Bread

School has begun . . . junior year of college. Mercy.

And I just discovered this song on Pandora. Mmm . . .

It's Broken Bread by Rend Collective Experiment.


And well, I need to sleep, but I wanted to brag on my Love for just awhile. :) I came back to school apprehensive, heart hurting, and Love has continued to hold out His hands in the midst of it. Oh what joy to be His. He is involved in precious, incredible ways. He has sent people to make me laugh when I needed it, has sent friends to talk with me, and has reminded me of the beauty of freedom and singleness and a wild living unhindered by dating relationships for the present.

So Jesus? Thank You. Thank You for Your presence in this moment. You fill it, and I smile in the midst of what could be chaos. I am alive, and I'm so grateful for it. Thank You for not leaving me alone. You are incredible!!!!! No greater Love. <3 p="p">
I love You, Abba. Please guide me. Prepare me for homiletics tomorrow (so. scared!). Ease my heart into Your humility, please? Your will done Your way. Much, much love.

Your danae girl, Simply Yours

Secure

I am unsteady, God.
Swallowing water.
Tag me 'Restless'
And send me out to sea.

Promise You'll find me?
Round white life tube
Tucked under my chin,
You pull me in with a
Scarlet Thread.

Be still.
Be still.

Tie me onto You, Jesus.
Please make the knot real tight.

Real tight.

Your Love Lasts Longer

It's 8:26pm as I'm beginning this. Exactly 11 minutes past the time I was supposed to begin running on a treadmill. *Chuckle, Chuckle, Chuckle* Ah shucks, well, let's see if I can make this fast. For some reason, it just makes me sad that this blog hasn't been posted on since June.

And so much has been going on since June.

Most of it, I can't see. Most of it is Jesus working beyond the depth of my vision.

But one thing He has showed me is that there is something to be said about Endurance. That sometimes, pain and struggles last longer than we expect, but that's okay. Long lasting pain or struggle doesn't mean Jesus has forsaken us. It does not mean that He has failed us or given up or didn't show up at the right time.

Sometimes the "right time" is later than we think but never later than God knows. We are called to press on.

Endurance is not a strength for me, but I wonder if Jesus is trying to teach me not to be so afraid of pain. Of pain that may last long.

The pain may last longer than I hope, but Your love lasts longer.

Always.

I have much to learn to trust Jesus with pain.

So much to learn.

I have a lot to learn about not judging God. He showed that to me in reading The Shack. I'm not done with it, but from what I've read, there are such precious truths hidden within it if one is willing to accept it as fiction.

How often do I make judgements on YHWH regarding what He's doing in my life? Too. Often. Who do I think I am?

I have so much to learn.

I praise Jesus that during this time and space that I'm currently in, I'm not experiencing too much concentrated pain. There are past memories that make me sad, that dip my toes back into some of the painful waves. There are a few struggles that make my heart ache, but over all, I'm really not struggling too much right now. I praise Jesus for these moments.

But I also pray that I will praise Him when the pain comes back. When things break and things aren't easy.

Teach me, Jesus, please teach me to trust You. To give You my expectations of how You should use pain in my life. I want to know in my soul and trust that You know exactly how much I can take. You won't give me an ounce more. What a gentle God. Alleluia.

To Walk the Brick Streets Part 5

Part Five and Final Part. Finally. :) ha! 

I thought I had maybe found the same seal water fountains that Bethany and I had stopped by to pray for Janeen, so I quickly went up the nearest cross street, getting excited that I had maybe found the same place.

No sight of Janeen.

She wasn't there. My heart sank. She had told us that sometimes she stands outside of Safeway. I didn't know where Safeway was, but I felt like I had seen one earlier. I asked a lady on the street; she seemed a little cold, protected. She was probably scared too, just trying to find her destination in the big city. And still, the sky was grey and the city was grey, and I felt like I was walking through the grey town in C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce.

There was still an uncomfortable fear following me around, but I tried to look people in their eyes, smile at them, say "Hello." My friend made fun of me for that later, but I think it might have helped. ;)

By this time, I was quite in need of a Water Closet (aka Bathroom), and I spotted a nearby MacDonalds. Outside the MacDonalds was a man I had seen earlier when I was with Bethany. He was an older man, missing teeth, white hair, and he asked, could you spare some change? And I said, I'm sorry, I couldn't, but what is your name?

"My name's Jeffrey."

"Good to meet you, Jeffrey! My name's danae."

And I shook his hand and entered MacDonalds. As I left, I turned back to Jeffrey, and asked him if he knew where Safeway was.

"It's a long ways  away. Too far to walk."

"But do you know where . . . okay.

"Jeffrey? Jesus loves you so much. Do you know Jesus?"

"Oh yes! Yes, I know Jesus. He's from Australia, and . . . "

Jeffrey went on about this Australian Jesus, and I wondered if maybe the drugs have gotten to him, poor man. Lord? Even if a man's head is so broken by the drugs he's tried to use to fix himself, can You still please come through? I won't lie; it seems so impossible. You are God of the Impossible. You love Him, don't You? Please, Jesus?

By this time, it was getting late. I headed in the direction of where I hoped Safeway would be. Nope. Negative.

The time was getting later. I needed to find a max station, head back. I found one pretty quickly in front of what I think might have been Pioneer Square(?). In front of the max station, a man was playing some sort of mandolin I think? I loved the music. I sat down, told him the music sounded beautiful, and waited for the max. In the square, I saw someone street preaching . . . very emphatically. It didn't look like it was accomplishing much. People came and went, and I met a man named Travis, a younger guy (in his thirties maybe?) with a pack on his back. We talked a little bit. He said he had a job and everything, just no place to stay. He didn't want to stay at the Homeless shelter . . . too many people. He needed his space. He needs Jesus. He later hopped on another max, as I anxiously waited.

But I met one more special person that night. She was a young lady, sitting near her guitar, and a sign that said it was her birthday, and she was just hoping for something good. She was nice as she said I could sit by her. I learned that her name is Spellina. She had white blond hair pulled back in two messy buns, and her left eye had some bruises under it. She talked slowly as she drank from her two liter pop bottle; she had a headache.

"Would you like a cookie?"  Her slow, somewhat raspy voice asked me. And I started to say No. The cookies had been store boughten, and I didn't want her to feel like I was above taking a cookie, so I took one and thanked her. Chewed slowly.  She has just turned twenty two as well, and I didn't realize how many girls my age called the streets their home and survived off of their cardboard sign messages and others' pity. I told her she was worth celebrating. I think she had kind of given up on that, or at least had different ideas of what celebrating meant. Eventually her boyfriend came by, and I wondered and worried about her eye. He seemed kind and gentle enough. I don't think he was the cause of it. Maybe.  But as the broken woman got up and left me alone there, she wrote on my heart, and God? Will You send someone else to her? Someone who will point her to You, to Love? She is not a hopeless case. Not with You, God. You know where she's at right now.

My parents called me as I waited still at the station and the time got later, and while I was embarrassed at my rash decision and that they had found me doing something pretty stupid in being alone in downtown Portland, about to ride the max at 8:30ish at night, I was so grateful for their destraction and felt that someone might be less likely to want to harm me if I was in a phone call? Y'all, at least I convinced myself. Ha! :) Well, we talked the whole ride home. (I asked them not to ask too many questions) I was a destracted listener, but when the max had to stop because of problems on the track, and we had to wait awhile, I was particuarly happy for them being a phone line away.

I finally made it back safe to my max station, and walked quickly through the dangerous street next to my school. I can't explain the relief I felt when I walked back onto Multnomah's campus. I felt so dirty from those streets, as if the smell of the peoples' drugs clung on my clothes. The grey listless city was a world away from the world I knew, and to come again into the world I knew shook me up. I lay down on the dorm room floor, still shocked by it all. The streets I walked were brick and broken, and the day sticks with me powerfully. These people were on my mind constantly the next few days, and I can still remember them so clearly.

I've gone back once since then . . . with one of my friends though. :) We never did find any of the people I met that day or Janeen . . . well, actually, I should say, we never talked to her. I saw a lady sleeping that looked like her, but we didn't wake her. It may not have been. Janeen is still so real. She is somewhere right now. She is doing something right now, feeling something, thinking something. God knows. I hope I meet all of those people in Heaven. Wouldn't that be a party? Wouldn't our feet just dance when they hit streets of gold? There will be no more cardboard signs, no more cruel, brick streets. Everyone who is a citizen of Heaven will be home and find a place in the Father's house. In the meantime, we cannot neglect those we do not understand. Open my eyes, Lord, please, to see people when I see the homeless. To see people when I see the drug addicts and the alcoholics. Use me, Jesus, to be love to this world. Use us. Maybe together, You might use us to call them to a place where You live and will love them forever. Forever Home.

Post Script:
Forgive me if I make this sound idealistic or if I sound like a saint for loving these people (this should be "ordinary" not out-of-the-ordinary as a Jesus-follower). I am a faulty lover, broken in myself; ask my family, friends. While it is easy to talk of love, to live it is so much more difficult. I struggle in loving, and I am learning that I must know God's love first . . . but that is a blog post for another time.

Please don't see me as the hero of this story. This story resulted from me doing something pretty foolish (though something I do not regret one bit). But God is love, and as a friend once said, He really does make all the difference. If He loves these people like He says He does (He does), maybe He will teach me what it means to love them from my heart . . . not just blog words. So be it, Jesus? Amen.