Thursday, January 7, 2010

I am too broken.

[Oh, turmoil! No organization, no new information, nothing, really, except the turmoil inside of me. All this, I have said before, these are simply different words. But I am thankful for this blog, that I can repeat myself when I need to - for my sake.]

Two summers ago on a mission trip, I memorized Romans 6. I didn't tell anybody I was doing it, but I did, quietly. Until near the end of the trip, we gathered together and talked about what God had been doing in our devotions, and I hesitantly came forward and mentioned that I had been memorizing. Just as I had been afraid, they asked me to recite it... and I did, perfectly. And then our group leader said, "Well, I guess we know who's preaching next Sunday," (every Sunday afternoon, we went to a prison and one team member would preach.)
I didn't preach that Sunday, I didn't preach during the entire two months we were there. I was scared, I - who had done public speaking for three years - was scared to get up and talk. I was afraid of hypocrisy, I was afraid of myself, I thought I was too broken to get up and tell others what I knew in my head.
I fall into thinking this, so often, almost constantly.
"I am too broken to witness." "I am too broken to teach." "I am too broken to speak." "I am too broken to love."
I am conscious - always - of my own depravity, and it weighs me down. I find a quiet ministry where the spotlight will never fall on me... my own way of serving without having to reveal myself as the broken individual I am. I try to give, I try to serve, but I do it silently... even at home, I work in silence, trying not to be noticed. I am not fulfilling my potential, not using my God-given abilities to their fullest, I'm holding back because I don't want to be noticed. Some friends of the family were over for dinner the other night, and somehow the subject came around to nanowrimo and I showed them my book. The father told me I should keep writing, and I agreed, and he said that there was money in writing, and I told him I wasn't sure that that was what I wanted to do with my life. I think I could be a writer if I wanted, but I don't want to, I want anonymity. I want to blend into the background and arrive at the kingdom of heaven - crownless - but accepted. Remembered none at all.
The world says it's low self-esteem. I think that's complete bullshit.
There's nothing I want more than to burn brightly. I am humbled, every time I send an email, to read Jack Kerouac's quote. I know I am not the person that quote describes, I know because I yawn and say common-place things. That quote is there because I want to be that thing, that person. I want to make a difference, I want to change things, I want to take what I have and turn it into something bigger, I want to be the Good Steward, I want to make the world a bigger place... but I don't, because "I am too broken."
I know the problem, and it's that I haven't really accepted God's grace. I my head, I know I'm free from this terrible weight, but the weight is in my heart, not my head. I am trying, trying to seek Him, but this weight presses against my chest, crushing me, emptying me of energy until I am so depleted I struggle only to get through the day.


  1. "We are broken / what must we do to restore / our innocence and the promise we adored / give us life again / we just want to be whole."

  2. To focus entirely on how broken we are is another kind of pride. It seems and feels like humility, but it's focusing on ourselves. I know how that feels, to feel like we're always so broken and weak. Though, I think I suffer too much from the other kind of pride, of thinking much of myself.

    I don't think wanting to "be that person" is a good way to view things. Thinking of how to become anything is another kind of pride. The best way to get out is to try to focus on other people, and on God. Now, I sound like I'm preaching at you, or like I'm better than you or something, but I'm not and I know I'm not. I was just thinking a lot about pride (and how prideful I am, oh sweet irony) today. So . . .yes, I'm praying for you Micah and I know how you feel. And, I love you, and think you're kind of awesome, if not perfect :P

    Your dad was totally lying, there's no money in writing ;)

  3. "To focus entirely on how broken we are is another kind of pride."

    Mmm, and I know it, and I don't like that I think of me so much. The other kind of pride, though, I'm not sure about... but I do agree about shifting the focus to other people and to God.

  4. I sympathize, though I don't know if it's the same thing or just the same feeling.
    The constant echo in my head is not so much "I am too broken" but "I am too foolish." I don't know enough, I can't keep a firm grip on truth, to allow me say anything.

    I wish I knew about the desire to "be that person": if it's pride, or if it's apathy not to desire that. . .

  5. sometimes (not all the time, but sometimes) it's good to not be able to get out of feeling "too broken." sometimes it readies us to be able to live "madly" without selfishness, pride, or pretension. sometimes you should just feel broken.
    sometimes you have to sit in the brokenness, and let it hurt.
    sometimes this lasts a long time.

    (in my experience, at least, this has been true)