Life in the Broken

by | Mar 12, 2024 | Non-fiction, Poetry | 22 comments

I was riding my bike to exercise class thinking about broken things. My first marriage specifically. Divorce is such an ugly thing. I remember attending a wedding a few years ago thinking that couple up front promising ‘til-death-do-us-part couldn’t possibly imagine that vow dissolved in the future.

Yet, a wedding scene is part of every divorce story.

I don’t expect anyone buys a pretty white dress with the idea that she could ever be more distant and estranged from that tuxedoed person holding her hand up there than from, perhaps, anyone else on the planet.

Such was the tenor of the dismal thoughts echoing into my bike ride to exercise class.

I don’t like to say God talks to me in any other way besides the words breathed into Scripture. I don’t have the vocabulary to express such a thing without sounding a bit irreverent or crazy, I guess. But I do believe God shepherds my thoughts with His rod and staff at times. Pulling me back from pathways going nowhere, He hooks me with a question mark (which does share a certain similarity with a Shepherd’s staff, does it not?).

With that sense of an unspoken question, He pulled my thoughts in to consider how the breaking of things is a built-in part of the making of life.

  • A broken seed falls into broken ground and from that small broken thing springs roots and stalk, flower making way for kernel, kernel crushed into flour, flour mixed into dough, rising into life-giving bread.
  • A seed of another kind breaks into ovum. Cells split in two and two and two, then break membrane, pierce amniotic sac and with a rush of water, and blood we get hedgehog or horse or human.
  • Every dark night ends with daybreak. This, our everyday testimony that light breaks dark and not, as we fear, the other way around.

And all this breaking points to Emmanuel, the God who broke into our broken world and broke the curse with His broken body and even now breaks into the hearts of His broken people.

No part of life here, it seems—physical or spiritual—happens without breaking.

But these breakings of seed and sun and Son are breakings of God’s design.

What of the things we humans break? Covenants and vows. Families. A glass dropped on concrete. A heart.

These irreparable things aren’t designed for breaking. No fresh-blooming, blood-pumping life sprouts from the jagged edges of our human-caused breakups and breakdowns.

The only good thing we can do with man’s breakage, is pick up pieces as we’re able, and fill the cracks.

Such is the art of mosaic.

But the cracks are always there.

Looking back at the broken promises that broke my family, I can see life grown out from those cracks, but I can’t say it’s infinitely better life than the life that was broken. Not in the same way that a towering oak is infinitely better than the tiny broken acorn made to break for that very purpose. I can’t bring myself say it was right and good that the white bedecked two who were made one on a certain April Saturday in 1982, were torn in two some twenty years later.

And, looking back at the breaking that broke our first parents out of the Garden, can I say with pure untainted joy it was right and good that God’s Son was torn and broken by soldiers and sin? To call the heartbreaking days in the Garden and at the cross only good, even now, knowing from that temporary brokenness came life abundant and eternal, is a thing this broken sinner’s heart can’t do.

Broken hearts.

Broken homes.

Broken dreams.

Can the goodness of the life that sprouts upward from these shards erase the goodness of the good thing that was broken? Can it make of no matter the violence that crushed what was once alive and whole?

And yet, God, who makes a habit of bringing new life from broken things in our forests, and gardens, and the labor and delivery floors of our hospitals, brings us—clumsy as we are—into His story. He invites us to carry on in this broken story of promises broken all the way back to the first of us, knowing we are prone to stumble and break the beautiful and good things He has given.

In my bike ride thoughts, I wanted an answer to take away the pain and loss of being broken. Some way of thinking that would make it entirely okay that my grandchildren can’t even imagine the oneness of the grandparents who were broken apart before they were born. But God didn’t grant me that kind of answer.

I wanted to say no to the pain and the breaking, but he showed me how life on this earth depends on the very breaking I disdain.

I can’t say I entirely get it. I guess He’s saying that as long as there is life on this earth there will be breaking. That, without breaking, there can be no life here. So, maybe not all breaking is good, but maybe all breaking–even our own–can point us to something good.

Reflecting on this now, I remember a sort of poem birthed from the middle of my own broken-heart story. A poem good for me to remember as I write to you now.

Because, for as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a writer. I wanted my picture on a book jacket and my titles on best seller lists. I wanted to inspire and comfort and help people with the words I would write. I thought it would be fun and exciting.

But one Sunday during communion, bringing my broken heart, sharing broken bread with the broken people of God, I understood what it was to put such dreams into the hands of God. It’s not about book jackets and best seller lists. It’s not fun and exciting. It’s something more.

The Parable of the Loaf

The loaf, seeing the hungry multitude, said,

Surely, I am not able to feed so many.

The Master smiled,

and His eyes held the mystery of a magical secret

and a sympathetic heart.

“It is true you cannot satisfy the people as you are…

You see,

if you truly want to feed the hungry…

you must first

be broken.”

22 Comments

  1. Colleen Sanden

    Once again, excellently written words of inspiration & reflection.
    Thank you!

    Reply
    • Brenda DeBrosse

      Oh my sweet dear friend, Jody, your words of inspiration. I brought tears to my eyes today and thank you for reminding me that God it’s there to help and guide us on a path of holiness. I want to say that I love you, and I think God for giving you the wisdom, the talent, the words behind the conviction that you speak on paper. I feel God has let us on our paths that we are truly meant to be on you as a book, writer, and me as a business owner of candlemaking. I have never forgotten our walks and talks that we used to do often in Colorado.

      Reply
      • Jody

        I love reading this message from you, Brenda! How wonderful that God keeps us connected in our hearts however many miles and years go by. I cherish our Colorado walks and talks, too : )

        Reply
    • Jody Evans

      Thank you, Colleen. You are such an encourager (and have always been that for me).

      Reply
  2. Sheri

    Thankful for these words today, feeling all sorts of broken. I needed this gentle nudge of my thoughts toward the good thing about brokenness.
    I also loved picturing you typing away in the middle seat 😆

    Reply
    • Jody

      I’m so glad this was timely for you, Sheri. I sort of accidentally posted it before I thought it was completely ready, but I just prayed it would be exactly what someone might need right then. And my seatmates were really so kind about me typing on the plane : )

      Reply
  3. Susie Crosby

    I just said “ahhh,” out loud as I finished reading this incredible piece. Piece…hmmm. A piece of writing, a piece of YOU that greatly impacted my heart tonight. Thank you for sharing about brokenness in such a brilliant, beautiful way, Jody. Loved this so much.

    Reply
    • Jody

      Susie, that means so much. Thank you for taking the time to share these sweet words with me.

      Reply
  4. Darla

    Again, a story that’s here at the right time with the right words. I broke today. I let them see my weakness. I tried to stay strong and not let it get to me but I broke.
    I enjoyed your story so much thank you.

    Reply
    • Jody

      Darla, I was at the airport and felt a little rushed, but it seemed like maybe I needed to just get this message out right away. I prayed it would arrive for someone just when needed. What a privilege that I was able to remind you of God’s love for the broken just at the time when you broke. He’s got you, friend.

      Reply
  5. Joyce (Jacobs) Erfert

    I love the part about mosaics. Broken pieces being made into something beautiful but the cracks are still there.

    Reply
    • Jody

      Thank you, Joyce : )

      Reply
  6. Savanna Kaiser

    Jody, your words are like a soothing breath of fresh air. This was beautifully written, from the heart, to encourage other hearts like mine. Thank you, friend. (P.S. The picture of the question mark resembling a shepherd’s staff….. I LOVE that!)

    Reply
    • Jody

      Oh, thank you, Savanna. I’m so glad you liked (LOVED) it : )

      Reply
  7. Jeanette Henneberry

    Jody I needed this so much today. It washed over my troubled mind. I feel like I’m currently living in an altered state of being. Processing loss, tragedy and trying to make sense of it all is too much. I had started reading your piece too late so I finished it this morning. Thank you! Incidently, the verse that came to me in my racked mind was IS 53:5 …..by his wounds we are healed. I used my phone to look it up. Then I saw your story which this broken heart needed to hear today! ❤️

    Reply
    • Jody

      Jeanette, you and your family were on my heart as I wrote this post, honestly feeling it was far too little to offer in the kind of hard and broken story you are living through right now. I praise God for ministering to you with His timing and His Word and my little story. Oh, how He loves us.

      Reply
  8. steve paschall

    Jody, what a gorgeous, heart rending story! In a guy’s language, there was a time when I was “flat-assed broke”. No car, no home, not one key to anything. I had just experienced forgiveness at a level I never thought possible, had left the daughter of the Governor of Arizona and the lovely home we had bought together two years after the dissolution of my marriage of 19 years and four children later.
    Then the Lord began reassembling my disarray, new work, new place to live, an old used car, but a whole new way of looking at life. Gratitude was a constant. Hope was ever present. People became so very precious and sacred. And Jesus became so very real. Still is. My life now is truly heaven every day, all because of His brokenness because of a love that would not let me go. May the Lord bless you in every way, my sister!

    Reply
    • Jody

      Thank you, Steve! I love it when something I write connects to someone else’s story with God. What a blessing to be able to share our stories and see His power, goodness, and love in the details.

      Reply
      • Carol Colson Topping

        Thank you, Jody. You’re such a beautiful writer. I’m so thankful that Jesus heals our brokenness and restores the years that the locust destroyed. His love restores and heals us and makes us useful in His kingdom. He loves us so well and makes me want to please him. So thankful that goodness can come from brokenness.

        Reply
        • Jody

          Oh, yes, Carol! I’m so thankful, too. God’s goodness is amazing!

          Reply
  9. Rich Rondeau

    Pam I really enjoyed this Jody! I appreciate you sharing so honestly, rare in our world unfortunately. But this helps us think about our own lives and encourages us to share truthfully as well. Then we can be known. That’s what the world really wants!

    Reply
    • Jody

      Thank you, Richie and Pam! It’s so hard to do share honestly when wounds are new and raw. People often can’t safely show those parts of their stories until they carry them as scars (like the ones I share from in this post). I’m glad I could be an encourager for you and I pray that will be true for others who may read this post, too.

      Reply

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