Every Broken Piece

The longer I walk around this world, the more I’m realizing that this life has nothing to do with me at all. In fact, I’m just part of someone else’s story. Yes, His story for me is unique and special, but even that isn’t about me. It’s all about Jesus. With that comes the bleak understanding that I am a dirty, selfish, sinful person, completely undeserving of God’s grace. 

                This has been a revelation of sorts for me, because along with it my eyes have been opened. Instead of thinking about my needs and my “woes” (I really have none worthy of sorrow) I see people. All of a sudden, I hear little bits and pieces that attune me to their brokenness.  I’m not saying I’m suddenly this magical mind-reader (because I couldn’t handle that!) but people are actually sharing the sadness of their hearts with me. It's actually quite random. Sometimes it takes me by surprise. I don’t expect for people to be so transparent, especially strangers. In fact, no one expects that in this day and age. But they are and it baffles me. I mean, there's really nothing special about me that they should want to share the deepest parts of their souls. Sometimes I don’t know how to respond. It’s not even like I’m intentionally listening for the sadness.  Like I said before, I’m nothing special. It’s because of Jesus.

                A few summers ago, a very wise woman encouraged me to be more  engaged with people by asking questions. It seems invasive and a bit awkward at first, but if I’ve learned anything from that exercise, it’s that people enjoy sharing the details of their lives. Don’t we all? Sometimes I catch myself giving an entire spiel  before I’ll dare ask about the other person. It’s almost like I need a bright blinking light above my head that shocks me when I hit my talking limit.  I think that’s just the way people are wired. We like to talk about ourselves.

                This morning after my Zumba class (you guys…it’s a dance party workout combo…how can you lose?!), I went to the store to exchange my tap shoes for a smaller size. The lady helping me had a beautiful engagement ring, and I complimented her on it. Her face brightened and she shared that she had been married almost a year, to which I shared that I had almost been married two. We congratulated each other, and the conversation shifted.

                “Do you guys have kids yet?” she asked

                “Not yet, my husband is in the Navy and we’re hoping we can wait until Shore Duty. What about you guys?”

                “We’re trying” her smile faded

                “That’s exciting, right?” I inquired

                “Yes, but we’ve already lost two.

I frowned, “I’m so sorry”

“It gets discouraging when we try and try and nothing happens”

At that point, she changed the topic to my shoes. Clearly, she didn’t want to think about what was or wasn’t happening in her life.

I walked away from the conversation feeling so burdened for that woman. I wanted to fix her problems immediately. So I sat there, and prayed silently for her in my car. She’s been on my mind ever since.

                Ruth Graham has a book entitled, In Every Pew Sits a Broken Heart.  I think we can translate that title to our everyday lives. In every life sits a hole of brokenness. Sometimes the hole isn’t as visible as we might hope, but it’s there nonetheless, and it can only be filled with a Saviour. Jesus came to “bind up the brokenhearted” and “set the captives free” (Isaiah 61). He is the only one who can take every broken piece and bind it perfectly with Gospel healing. The more I mediate on this, the more tangible the charge to love others becomes. We, as believers, can share this bondage-releasing Gospel with people. We just have to ask questions, and listen for the leading of the Holy Spirit. Our eyes must be peeled and our ears open to catch those broken pieces.