As the semester draws to a close, I am thankful for the stories that began in Sydney and continue to be written still. The characters interwoven across each other’s pages and the plot twists that take us all on a ride no short of adventure. Thankful for the new encounters with love and the challenges to seek greater possibilities. The interactions over coffee and microwaved takeaways or the mealtimes in Asian restaurants, knitting our souls together in the harmony of love will remain close to my heart for a long time. Time and again, the privilege of heartfelt conversations see the unveiling of our broken memories, steepest letdowns and suffocating helplessness; as if we have lived our lives being told to sweep under the rug our truest of emotions and water down the real experiences that have shaped us into becoming. With the gentleness of the morning rays and warmth from the winter sun embrace, will you take a walk with my thoughts as I propose that we are broken for a miracle?
Our lives are littered with brokenness – our memories are shattered with disappointment, hearts broken by betrayal. Unexpected turns in our lives, like flower vases lifted high to be admired then carelessly dropped to the ground. One moment we are celebrating milestones that far exceeded our imagination, and in the next we are watching the broken pieces on the ground, wondering how could this be? How do dreams turn into nightmares? Fullness into emptiness? Long roads turn out to be dead ends? Which pain would be more tolerable, we wonder – if we stood amidst the fragments of our hopes or if we bent over on our knees to pick them up with our hands?
Our world is crowded with brokenness – look around you and see the souls lost to anxiety, hear the unspoken thoughts about everyday worries. Do you not see? Our desperate immersion in temporal distraction? The tears we don’t know how to cry? Can you not hear? The joyful songs that have left our voices? Our childhood ambitions have been hidden to be forgotten, and the hopes that once were have been abandoned to “be realistic”. We have fallen short of the people we once dreamed to be: tapping out of the ring for an indefinite water break because the fight to become better versions of ourselves seems impossible. Our deep desires to love and be loved truly are doused by the intoxication of discouragement. We are bruised and broken by the punches hurled by the everyday crowd telling us to settle down and settle fast.
As if the days of our lives had been written into a book and we have chosen to stop flipping to the next pages because of the brokenness that had been spilled across numerous pages now. We have lost count of the occasions of stumbling and falling, feeling cornered to despair by the broken pieces scattered all over. Afraid that the subsequent pages would spell depths of brokenness we had never known before, we have decided to stay on the same page. And perhaps, you and I have been on the same page of our stories for a while now. We have been reciting the story of our brokenness far too long, we can remember every word from the lies spoken to us – “You are not good enough”, “You will never make it”, “You are struggling alone”. Our souls are starving for the truth, but it starts with turning over the page believing that the story has yet to end. There is more.
In this age where vulnerability is shunned and authenticity is rejected, we are all too afraid that the shattered pieces of another’s life will remind ourselves of our own. We are afraid to see our own reflection in the brokenness of another’s life, terrified to unwrap the bandages we have desperately bound around our bleeding hearts of hurt. Our joy is held hostage by our refusal to recognise our deepest pain. Part of being alive is to acknowledge and embrace our brokenness, to bravely lift up our sorrows and hurts for healing. The startling suicide rates are testament to the cries of this earth, our throbbing hearts of inexplicable pain and the desire to numb it all that we cannot put into words. On days that we are honest, we know little about where we are headed and what all this is for.
Dearest One, you were never meant to do this alone. Your struggle is real and the pain is searing, but there is no wound that is incurable, no sense of loss that cannot be redeemed. The lost time of your youth? Lost memories with your family? Lost relationships with those you still miss today? We are all people of brokenness – what matters is Who we place our broken pieces in the hands of. My life was transformed radically the day I came to know Jesus, He was unafraid of my own brokenness and mess, that I myself had did not dare look at. Just as I expected another one to scoff at my weaknesses or brush off my sadness as “a phase that will pass”, He spoke into my life with compassion and picked up the broken pieces, saying I love you. Little did I know then, that He has a track record of turning beauty from ashes and creating testimonies out of trials. One of His biggest miracles of feeding the 5000 men and their families with just 5 loaves and 2 fish began with His breaking the bread. The miracle of our salvation comes from the breaking of His body on the cross at Calvary.
The Miracle begins then, when we place our broken pieces in the hands of a loving God of miracles. Our souls are parched dry with hopelessness and the Hope for our hearts has never stopped knocking: will you let Him in?
“Jesus took the five loaves and two fish, looked up toward heaven, and blessed them. Then, breaking the loaves into pieces, he kept giving the bread to the disciples so they could distribute it to the people. He also divided the fish for everyone to share. They all ate as much as they wanted, and afterward, the disciples picked up twelve baskets of leftover bread and fish. A total of 5,000 men and their families were fed.” (Mark 6:41-44)