“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars . . . .”– 2 Corinthians 4:7 (NLT)
Why do I try so hard to be Intact—
to hold together these shards
even as I watch fragments fall through my fingers,
sharp edges stinging my thin skin,
stripping all semblance of wholeness.
I am compelled to be Competent—
steeling my self momentarily Capable to comfort, clean, protect, carry, provide.
To be anything but Unbroken seems non negotiable.
When my flawed hands—feeble for these many tasks—finally flounder,
Fear whispers, insidious:
“surely frailty places you beyond redemption’s reach;
surely being blemished means irretrievable, irreversible, eternal Brokenness.”
Yet those immortal hands who fashioned mine must know:
to be created flesh, bone, and blood is to be made
Breakable.
I am not called to contain the fast-decaying clay,
to muster Courage false,
to claw towards Competent,
to be—or appear—Unbroken.
Crying for His hands to cover mine is to surrender Certain.
It is essential.
It is knowing:
To be broken is not Broken, but the only way to
Whole.
Anne Pharr can’t remember a time when she wasn’t putting her thoughts and feelings into writing–a tribute to one college professor’s mantra that “writing is an act of discovery.” Married for over 20 years and mother to two teenagers, Anne enjoys encouraging her students at a local community college to cultivate their own writing abilities, to value literature’s ability to deepen our understanding of others, and to know that our world desperately needs the gifts and perspectives only they can offer. She is never *not* longing for more time to read, to write, and to have un-rushed conversations with friends–not necessarily in that order. Her writing appears atIntervarsity’s The Well and on her blog, shadowwonder
I went to Anne’s article at Intervarsity “the well” “Collecting Words: An Artifact of God’s Presence.” So helpful to me. I think I will get hold of Henri Nouwen’s book Mourning into Dancing. As a single lady in these days of isolation, I feel refocused by her words. It occurred to me this morning that I have been focusing on the lack of people close to me right now, and feel now that I would like to be more of a searcher of what is going on in my heart and daring to ask Jesus for his answers for me. He cares for me here, now, in this quiet place.
Terri, I’m so glad you are going to spend some time with Nouwen’s book; his writing continues to play an influential role in my own journey.
I love your idea of allowing this to be a time when you can do some exploring of what is happening in your soul. You are right: He certainly cares for you–even in the quiet.
I am saying a prayer for you now that you will have a palpable sense of His presence and affection for you during this season.
Thanks for reading and commenting.
–Anne