Church: Is There Room for Brokenness in Our Journey?

My friend once wrote about bitterness as though it were an old friend; a necessary part of his journey to wholeness. That rubs me the wrong way at first, because it goes against everything I’ve ever believed about my brokenness.

I’ve never thanked bitterness, just like I haven’t thanked pride or selfishness or doubt or anger. I stuff these things, and carry them like burdens. I feel guilty that they exist at all, wondering why I can’t escape them once and for all.

But then I saw that maybe he was onto a piece of theology I kept tripping over because I ignored it for so long.

I look at all the pinterest posts, the motivational snippets on social media with a girl at the beach and a can-do quote, or a sunrise with perfect Scripture reference. And they feel great, when I’m in a place on my journey to embrace them for what they are.

Other time, when I’m angry at the world or wrestling with God like Jacob, that beach picture just makes me think of sand in my eyes and the verse only leaves me irritated with more questions than answers.

And it seems to me that any negative I’m feeling should be as quickly eradicated as the time it takes to post a platitude.

I don’t always feel that there is room in the church, or perhaps in the version of Christianity my world has shaped, for me to be in the middle of the broken. I don’t always feel there’s room for my nagging questions about why we are here and what the Gospel of God truly means. Every once in awhile my search for where man-made traditions ends and God’s heart begins creates an earthquake in my soul leaving me unsteady and unsure.

So guilt expands, taking up prime real estate in my mind, and there’s no room to explore grace, freedom, or even love. There’s no safe table to write my questions out or be brutally honest about my life if the table is already covered with pretty pictures of what I know my life should be.

I drink deep conversations with safe friends to stay afloat, to check my pulse. Yes, God is still there and I still believe and…funny thing… my wrestle never changes the truth.

I think one of the most crippling lies we believe about following God is that we’re no longer allowed to struggle.

I can tell that I believe this lie still: In the few conversations I’ve had this weekend alone about the critical process of my mind, I keep apologizing as though my normal human emotions were taboo.

“I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but…” “I’m so sorry I’m being so critical…” “I guess I’m just being selfish…”

I have acted as though life were about finding the shortest distance between where I am and where I should be, between what I feel and what I should feel. But often I find shortcuts that don’t actually change my heart. The shortest path isn’t often the one to wholeness.

But the long path through the muck and desert is perhaps the one where I’m desperate enough to reach out my hand for God to hold as I go. The long path is the one where I actually have to look at my brokenness, because it is part of a map that reveals where God needs to take me next.

My point is this: Our brokenness is PART of our journey. It’s not just part of our past, pre-Romans Road prayer selves. It’s part of our ongoing relationship with God at any given moment.

Holiness isn’t an overnight process. It’s more like the outer shell of a turtle that keeps peeling as the turtle matures. The old shell-scute sloughs off the same way every year, to make room for new growth.

Christ covers us once for all, but that doesn’t mean our shortcomings disappear the day we say yes to God’s gift.

Maybe the struggle is a sign that we’re in the battle. That we’re not living a fantasy. That we’re still waiting on holiness. Maybe embracing the struggle is actually a precursor to breaking the hold complacent religion often has on us.

The surrendered struggle invites an opportunity for growth, while a hidden heart suffocates and rots.

Maybe we can get to a place where we drop the shoulds and acknowledge that where we are is both broken AND purposeful, a dark tunnel that’s teaching us to look for the light.

And may we find a way to be a safe processing place for those who are in the middle of their own pain, doubt, depression and even wrongness.

Further reading:

• Romans 7:14- 8:4 (our struggle with sin/broken behavior)
• The book of Jonah (struggle, disappointment with God, God’s grace)
• 1 Kings 19:1-18 (The story of Elijah fleeing for his life: depression: doubt: meeting God after the waiting/wilderness)
• Matthew 11:2-15 (John the Baptist questioning Jesus while in prison)
• Psalm 13 (prolonged season of questioning/ waiting on God’s answer)
• Mark 9:14-25 (Story of the man who asked Jesus to heal his son, but struggled with unbelief/ honest confession of feelings)