I'm whole even though I'm broken. It seems like a contradiction, but so does most of what Christ calls us to. The last will be first. The servant is the greatest. Give and you'll have enough.
The paradox of faith doesn't make sense in my logical head. I guess that's what makes it faith.
I'm flawed. Imperfect. Shattered.
I'm wounded and marred.
But I am still whole.
Because He made me whole.
Complete. Adequate. Sufficient.
I am enough because I AM is enough.
Long ago, a friend reminded me that I may be broken, but I am ok.
When I let Him fill up my cracked places and shine through my impurities, I am brokenly whole. Wholly broken.
There is beauty in my ashes. Life in my death. Light in my darkness. There is triumph in my tragedies. Strength in my vulnerability.
No matter what labels others stick on me -- or even that I stick on myself -- His banner over me is love.
I am loved.
I am His.
All my broken bits and shattered pieces.
Whole and complete, in Him. Not in the fulfillment of my dreams or in the relationships I cherish. Not in the work of my hands or my strivings for perfection.
Whole and complete, in Him.
I'm forcing myself to "lift my eyes". To look Him full in the face. To let my brokenness dissolve in the restoration and redemption that can only come from His hand.
I want to let Him love me to shalom.
Where I can be broken and more-than-ok all at the same time.