It’s the words that come on a grey day, the fall temperatures finally making their way through the open window. It’s a week when memories have returned along with the cool temperatures, when you feel as if you’re the same person you were months ago because you can’t figure things out. You can’t even put feelings into words and you come to the Lord with this apology:
I’m sorry for being a broken record. Really, I’m sorry for being broken. Because I’ve failed at figuring things out, and I’ve failed at fixing it all.
But the best part about honest prayers is this:
God reaches down, and He reminds you of the truth your soul needs:
healing always begins with helplessness.
Because the truth is: we cannot heal ourselves. We cannot fix ourselves. It might break you to know this, but this is what I know to be true: it is not until we hold our empty hands up and let the marred hands hold them that true Healing begins.
We cannot invite healing in until we realize we aren’t the ones that usher it into our brokenness.
And the brokenness we cloak in shame, the tears we get frustrated by – they are all heart longings for the only One who makes us whole.