What if brokenness is ok?

What would it look like for me to be ok with my own brokenness?

I’m asking myself this question sitting in a coffee shop (no one is surprised) because I realized that I’m not. I’m not ok with my own brokenness. I know it’s there. I am consistently working on becoming more like Christ. But I’m not actually ok with my flaws where they are right in this moment.

I feel like they’re too much and consequently, I’m too much.

I struggle with that lie every day, and as a result I throw up facades and put up fronts to everyone that I can keep it all together. Except I can’t.

I’m ok with my brokenness only if it’s a means to an end. Brokenness is ok as long as it can be tied up with a bow or turned into a cute anecdote. Maybe I can share about my wounds and struggles once I’ve made more progress. But what if brokenness is ok right where it is sometimes?

I don’t think this means we should all just sit in our crap. I do believe in always trying to follow closer to Jesus and consistently allowing him to redeem our souls and minds. But I think I’ve turned that into perfectionism. Anytime I bring up brokenness I want to have a silver lining or a lesson I’ve drawn from it. Brokenness cannot lie where it is for risk of me becoming a burden. To speak in LA terms, I have to always be hustling and grinding. My brokenness is too much and yet not enough all in one.

Most days, I don’t have the courage to just say to my friends: This is where I’m at and that’s all I’ve got today.

But what would it look like if I were ok with having brokenness? What if it was ok that I still struggle with patterns of sin? What if it wasn’t unacceptable to experience hurt from old wounds?

What if where I am, right in this moment – not just once I clean up or figure out a lesson from it all – is enough?

When I wrote down that initial question in my journal, my response was:

Probably a lot of freedom

Probably a lot of peace

Probably a lot more hope in Jesus

To imagine a life where I didn’t constantly fear my brokenness being exposed would be a relief. To know I don’t have to perform or tie everything up with a happy ending would give me a lot more room to breathe and be in the moment. To let my brokenness lie and just trust that Jesus is enough because I never will be would be a gift.

Sometimes I think I believe that if I just work hard enough on myself and love Jesus with enough tenacity, I will eventually be self-sufficient of a savior… what an oxymoron.

Accepting our current brokenness can be a gift of epic proportions. It frees us up to let Jesus be enough – not just on the cross, but every single day. I imagine that if I loosened up my hold on getting everything right and always being enough, that it would give Jesus a bit more space to take over.

I am always trying to mask what I see as imperfections or flaws. But what if exposing them meant Jesus could use them for his greater glory? Isn’t his glory the entire point, not what people think of me?

Furthermore, living a life that constantly needs to be distorted and masked to suffice is exhausting. It’s dishonest at best, manipulative at worst. And it pushes me into living a life driven by fear. If I fear I’ll be a burden to my friends, I struggle in silence and loneliness. If I fear other people’s approval, I may never seek out my God-given calling because it is outside of the box. But that isn’t the life God calls his children to.

It is for freedom we’ve been set free. (Galatians 5)

He didn’t die on the cross and rise up to heaven 3 days later so that we could pretend we didn’t even need him to do that in the first place. When I fully expose my wounds, I expose the necessity of the cross and the glory of that sacrifice.

I don’t think I’ve learned the full meaning of when the Bible says God works best in our weaknesses, but I’m eager to find out. If my all-encompassing goal in life is to know and love Jesus and to be known and be loved by him, part of the deal is giving up control and letting him fill in the rest.

It’s ok that today I had a small anxiety attack and questioned my worth in response. I don’t have a fun quirky anecdote. I don’t have a fun phrase to coin to promote self-love or fight those lies. I don’t even feel I have the capacity to truly share about that part of my walk yet. But I have Jesus and I know he will reveal himself in time in that place in my life and that’s what I’m holding onto today.

It’s ok that sometimes, I genuinely believe all my friends secretly hate me. It’s definitely not ideal and I am well aware it’s irrational, but I don’t have a solve for that one yet – except that I am lucky and have patient friends who are very compassionate and kind Jesus-loving gals. But I don’t have to beat myself up and apologize relentlessly for my insecurities. It’s ok that some days I struggle with lies as long as I can turn to Jesus in that and remind myself of the truth even if it doesn’t necessarily feel true.

It’s ok that I haven’t figured it all out yet. I’m walking with Jesus, and day by day receiving his grace and clinging to his glory. I hope I’m becoming more like him in the process, but I don’t have to be him. He’s the savior; I’m not.

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