Your Next Fix

My sacrifice, Oh God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise. Psalm 51:17

Papa please, FIX THIS!

Daddy, I need You to MAKE THIS RIGHT!

Come here...Come as you are, Beloved.

Papa, I'm an absolute whirlwind mess, and nothing is in it's place. I need to get these things straight. I need to FIX IT first. How can I come and sit with you while this disorder, this unplanned mess remains?

It must be FIXED!

Come. This mess, this disorder can wait. Come. I long to draw near to you. Will you put those things in your hands down? And come?

My every nerve is screaming, I'm absolutely out of sorts. Papa, please!

FIX THIS FIRST!

Silence.

The whirlwind within grows bigger. I am overcome by a soulish fever of emotions. I hate that this is NOT FIXED. I hate that You won't just FIX IT. I hate that I am so,

BROKEN.

So,

UNFIXED.

Adored, that is the only way you can come. You are made to be BROKEN. That's why you try so very hard to make everything around you so tidy and neat. It makes you FEEL FIXED.

Listen.

You run to your checked boxes for your next FIX.

You plan your whirling minutes and enviable vacations to feel the rush of the FIX.

You shop and run abuzz without stopping so that you have everything you need to FEEL FIXED.

You clean, you shop, you edit, you post, you make your tidy plans and rise to meet them. You drive yourself mad and work overtime for a well-deserved FIX.

All for a FIX.

All because it makes you feel FIXED.

Now that those plans are coming unglued, the cracks are beginning to show, and you CANNOT deal, you want it FIXED.

Child, listen. This is important. Are you really listening?

I allow these ungluings, these frustrating frayings and unravelings. I permit this unplanned disorder in your day. I approve these inconveniences. All because... I want you to stop trying to FIX.

Stop. FIXING.

Are you ready? To come and sit with Me in your brokenness?

You think that making your life orderly and shiny, neat--picturesque--is the goal. That is not why I made you. I made you to BE BROKEN.

I made you to COME BROKEN. For only in your brokenness can I begin to work. Can I pour my ever-ready, bubbling-over-love into you. Over your cracked and broken, readied vessel.

Truly, you won't come to me if you're too busy trying to FIX.

You'll come in that great and messy moment of epiphany: YOU ARE POWERLESS to do it. You are not sufficient. You are not the FIXER.

I AM.

So, listen child.

Are you really listening?

Be glad you are broken! Rejoice and laugh-out-loud when your plans are interrupted. Start singing joyfully when you come unglued and pretty plans fail. Be happy that you are undone.

Because brokenness is where life begins.

Be broken.

Stay broken.

Come broken.

My Light and Love will only shine through, will only pass through the cracks, when you put that glue bottle in your trembling hands down, come to Me...

and let the cracks show.