Brothers and sisters in Christ: I do not write to you seeking approval or greatness or commentary. I, perhaps the least of you all, write regarding brokenness, I who am not nearly humble enough! (O, if only I could be!)
Brokenness by dictionary definition, can cover a multitude of meanings, from the shattering, the fragmentation of physicality or an emotional state to weakness in spirit or health. We also “break” horses from their wild ways into gentle submission. As Christians, brokenness seems desirable. We sing about it in popular songs and pray for it in popular prayers and yet one must ask, what is the brokenness that we seek? Do we seek that for which we ask? Do we even know for what we ask?
Do we wish for the brokenness of Abraham as he asked mercy from God on Sodom and Gomorroh? The brokenness of Job through the testing he endured, all for the glory of God? Do we ask for the brokenness of David after Saul’s attempts to murder him, the incident with Bathsheba, or his son’s betrayal? Or yet, that of King Nebuchadnezzar, when God made him as the beasts of the field until he acknowledged who God was? Or do we know at all for what we ask? Are we in need of the shattering, the smashing of fabricated worlds and logics–or are we asking for a guarantee against the heart of stone? Do we convict ourselves, or wait upon the Faithful Spriit who resides in us all?
My first premise is this: that if we do not know for what we ask, yet we ask anyway, or ask all the time, can it not become devoid of meaning (that is, if it has not already become so), added to the list of Things Good Christians Say And Do Because They Are–swimming in redundancy? Where is partnership between the emotional euphoria of worship and the logic necessary to incline one towards true repentance? For without a healthy blend of the two, there can be no real meaning to our words. Too much emotion, and our words are nothing but a mere hype producing little change; too little, and there is no heart to change, and either way, we are as those about whom God warned the prophet, Ezekiel, a people who “say to one another, each to his brother, ‘Come and hear what the word is that comes from the Lord.’ And they come to you as a people come, and they sit before you as my people, and they hear what you say but will not do it; for with lustful talk in their mouths they act; their heart is set on their gain, and behold, you are to them as one who sings with a beautiful voice and plays well on an instrument; for they hear what you say but will not do it.” (Ezekiel 33:30-32) If such is the case, we become as the unfortunates who are “hearers of the word” rather than doers–looking at our faces in the mirror before walking away, and throughout the course of the day, forgetting our appearance.” (James 1:22-24)
In this redundancy–this lack of understanding or fully desiring–lies my second premise, that this redundancy becomes a pride. These empty words become an outward symbol, hollow in every way. How many of us have prayed, and afterwards thought, “Ooohh! That was good.”, painfully aware that others are listening? Our prayer is turned from seeking God to seeking man. If words that are intended good can be shifted to become a sort of pride, how much more words that are not meant? And in such a case, the petition for brokenness can be a facade at best, a competition at worst–a deceptively covered well into the spring of a deeper, darker pride. The deep pride is the pride of our undoing, for we look upon our pleas for brokenness pleasure, reflecting upon how we prayed and perhaps comparing ourselves, perhaps even trusting in it as some trust in their own righteousness. For how much different is this than when we beat our breast, wailing, “Of sinners I am chief!” and yet moments later look upon our neighbor, struggling with his own sin-burden, and rather than humbly thanking God for allowing us to overcome, we look upon the neighbor with haughty scorn and indignation? And yet God says, “Though I say to the righteous that he shall surely live, yet if he trusts in his righteousness, none of his righteous deeds will be remembered but in his injustice that he has done, he shall die.” (Ezekiel 33:13) Granted, we cannot lose our salvation; however, I firmly believe that such a mindset shall hinder our service to the Lord. If we trust in our “brokenness” will it not be forgotten, burnt up in the fire of testing, exposing our pride? And will that not be remembered in the day of judgement?
To avoid falling victim to Trickery and succumbing to either of the two premises, we must fully understand the nature of brokenness. Mind, I am no one that I should speak on brokenness, but perhaps that is why God has moved me thus to speak. I have no expertise in this area, nor does it come naturally to me, so I will summarizes some concepts from the bible. Brokenness is both rational and emotional, for reasons already discussed. Brokenness is sometimes mourning (Psalm 51, Ezekiel 16:62-63) ut it is also joy because it requires recognizing who God is, in all his attributes. God chastises us for our good (Proverbs 3:11-12) and yet he does not enjoy the destruction of the wicked or our punishment (Ezekiel 33:11), for we bend his hand for punishment (Isaiah 48:18-19). God is merciful (Jeremiah 3:12, Hosea 2:20-23). God is gracious and loving (Psalm 139:14-17, 145:16-21, Jeremiah 30:17, Ezekiel 16, Hosea 2:16, Luke 15:17-24, John 3:16). God is omnibenevolent, omnipresent, omniscient, and omnipotent. Brokenness is fearing the Lord and having an understanding of God’s role in the world, and consequently, our own as beings created by him. Brokenness is having a teachable spirit. Moreover, to be broken is perhaps not limited to any one moment,but rather, a lifestyle inasmuch as worship is a lifestyle. Brokenness is worship, and perhaps no truer, purer worship can ever be attained without this sort of brokenness. Brokenness is thanksgiving and praise. It is knowing, believing, and feeling these things–and yet I have barely scratched the surface. But how can I? Are not the wonderful, fearful, awesome attributes of God infinite? Is he not to a degree unsearchable and beyond understanding?
Some of us purposefully speak slowly or softly or put on mournful faces in an attempt to look more broken, murk sunk into humility, more chastised, and thus more spiritual. But let us not be deceived; this is merely pride in another vessel. Brokenness may come in moments where we are smashed like a clay pot by life’s storms, but why pray for such moments? Why desire pain or agony to bring us to our knees? Is it because we can be proud to say, “I desired brokenness at any cost?”–and again, this is pride and vanity, devoid of any real value. Or is it because we mistakenly believe that God delights in seeing us wounded like child that crushes play-do people? Do we believe that tragedy is the only way to healing? If so, I believe that there is something inherently wrong with our perception of God’s character.
Yes, tragedy may come. Tempests may assail us. Fires may scourge us. We may be broken, shattered, dashed to pieces in an instant. And yes, God promises to heal us, for he says, “Then the nations shall know that I am the Lord; I have rebuilt the ruined places and replanted that which was desolate. I am the Lord, I have spoken, and I will do it.” (Ezekiel 36:36) But rather than craving and praying for such things in abject morbidity, why do we not first seek to be lowly and humble? Why not live righteously? God’s punishment and “brokenness” (by which I mean shattering in a moment) at any cost, why do we not instead strive to achieve the beatitudes, to give God glory and daily affirm his rightful place in our lives, and our place in his ultimate plan? If we seek first to be humble will that not in the end be more pleasing to God? and if we humble ourselves, will it not save him–and us–the pain of him humbling us?
