The Beauty of Brokenness

I never realized brokenness could hold such beauty. That is, until I found Him there.

His feet were barely visible through my falling tears, but there they were. Quiet and still, yet horribly unwelcome. Couldn't He see what a mess I was in? Why didn't He just leave? Why would He possibly want to be with me? Why did He care enough to love me, the one who failed Him...again and again?

He didn't leave. In fact, He appeared quite content to stay there and wait. 

And wait He did.

I knew what I wanted: to give Him all of me. But I delayed, afraid that He would cast me away, worthless and defiled. I guess I could have told Him to leave, but I didn't, and so He stayed.

Finally one day, in desperation, I told Him I was His to do with as He willed. I didn't have much to give—just a broken heart full of the rotting sores of sin—but I gave it anyway.

His feet moved instantly. I expected Him to find the nearest exit—but His feet weren't moving towards the door. They came towards me. As He knelt in the filth at my side, I felt Him hold me to His heart. I heard Him call me His beautiful, forgiven child. At last I dared to glance into His eyes, and I found there only love. Tears flowed, but not out of despair. His love had overwhelmed me, and there was nothing else to do but love Him back.

Picking up my broken pieces, He held them to the light; but I didn't mind. His touch transformed them into grace, and I found that my worry had been in vain. He loves, and love never casts away the beloved. In that moment I knew that I would be content to stay broken forever if only He would never stop loving me—and I know He never will.

It's a different kind of beauty, this beauty of brokenness, but it's a beauty nonetheless. Why? Because here in my brokenness, I find Him. It's here that God's love shines best.

And He is beautiful.