There are a few questions that I tend to ask myself, such as
“What does it feel like to catch on fire? If I ever did, could I stay calm?”
If there wasn’t darkness, would we even know that the stars exist? No one knew darkness could shine like that.”
“Has anybody else ever experienced so much heartache that it feels like your blood is flowing backwards?”
“Why is it easy to sleep through the day but hard to fall asleep at night?”
“How ironic would it be for your wife to turn your ashes into a locket to wear around her neck just to put a picture of her new boyfriend in it?”
“Why didn’t God make me someone worth loving if He was going to love me so much?”
I’ve been told that brokenness is a work of art. I’m my own masterpiece, but I don’t even want to be an artist. Humans are like really ugly paintings, so ugly that we’re almost beautiful. All art pieces have certain perks and flaws, I guess. And I’d like to think that I have more perks than I do flaws. This is one of my flaws.
The home inside my head has a lot of mirrors. Each one shows me something different when I look into them, like disappointment, insane, alone, annoying, burden. Many have said “you don’t belong, so don’t be long.” Lately, though, I’ve seen confident, beautiful, smart, whole, independent, loved. The pessimistic side of me feels like they’re being nice to apologize in advance for something bad about to happen. This is one of my flaws.
I used to wonder why I always feel so heavy, but maybe it’s because I carry so much light. Light is so heavy.
A lot of non-Christians believe that Christians have it all together, with nothing wrong in their lives. I believe that Christians are the most broken people in the world. They just allow their brokenness to expand to let more of God in. God uses our cracks to shine through us, which is how He reaches other people. If this is the case, I don’t mind being broken. In fact, I want to have so many cracks that there isn’t anything left of me. The more cracks, the more Christ. Just maybe, this is why I feel so heavy.
I haven’t asked that last question in a while. Rather, I’ve made it a habit to thank God for loving me so much and for changing my heart to understand that no one is really worth loving, but He loves us anyways. I know God hears my prayers but if there was ever a time for Him to listen carefully, it would be now. I can’t thank God enough, but I’ll spend the rest of my life thanking Him.
If I ever begin to doubt that God loves me or think I’ve fallen too far for Him to pull me back, I take a step back. I remember all that He’s done for me, all that He’s brought me through and remind myself that it hasn’t all been for nothing, that He is going to use me in a bigger way than today’s bad mood or poor circumstance. Besides the obvious truth of God sending His Son to die for my sins and to save me from hell, I know that God loves me because He wouldn’t put so much effort into me if He didn’t.
I’ve been thinking about death lately in the sense of what comes after. I know I’m going to heaven, but what’s there? Will I see loved ones? Will my dog be there? Will there be ice cream?
I was part of a conversation about this and the way it was explained to me was, “Do we really think that little of God that we think we’ll be concerned about those things when we’re standing in front of Him in His kingdom?”
When did it become so numb to us that the God of the universe loves us enough to make us in His own image? That is such a powerful truth and it’s easily brushed off like it doesn’t matter. It’s almost painful to think that we can be that adored. God’s love is like the nails in Jesus’ hands, a blissful pain.