All Broke Inside. That's How The Light Gets In

Wow.  How do I even begin this post?  My thoughts and emotions are rushing.

Recently, I feel that God has intensified efforts to reach out to me and brought me to a watershed moment yesterday morning.

What I am choosing to accept as intensified efforts began a couple of weeks ago when God (I'm choosing to believe it was God) "reached out to me" and said, "It's time to to clean up this mess inside of you.  I'll start by removing the shackles that have kept you from moving freely for the last few years."  And just like that it began.  And I was shackled.  Emotionally.  Mentally.  Even physically.  I was fighting fiercely.  I was moving.  But with great difficulty and much pain. And I certainly couldn't get very far.

I don't know if any of you have ever experienced this but I was in that odd place where I knew I was shackled but was powerless to free myself.  I knew that I was seeing many things through jade-colored glasses.  Many things refracted through a lens of bitterness.  I knew it was happening.  I knew that it was not who I really am.  I tried to convince myself that I was fine all the while, knowing I was far from it.

Last Sunday, I went to church which had become an extremely painful place for me to be.  I had come to feel like I did not belong, was not part of the community that I had once so cherished and that I should not be there.  Because of this, every time I would go to church for the last few years, I would instinctively put on the jade-colored glasses.  Last Sunday was no different and on they went.  But as I pulled into the parking space, I remembered the way God had reached out to me and for the first time in a long time, I thought, "Maybe there is a place for me here.  Maybe I belong."  And so, I took the glasses off but kept them close.  In the parking lot, I fell in step with an acquaintance-friend from the arts team who expressed that he hadn't seen me in a while and that he was glad to see me.  He further expressed that he missed me being in dramas.  Then, seeing my countenance, he asked me if everything was all right.  Never one for shallow fakery, I replied that things had been better.  He asked if there was anything he could do and I gave him the standard reply that I have given as of late which is, "No, there is nothing anyone can do."  He told me, "Well, I will pray for you and I hope things get better."  And I could tell that it wasn't just lip service.  He meant it and that, in turn, meant something to me.

Sunday night, I prayed to God for the first time in over a year.  I prayed for relief from all of the burdens I have been carrying.

Monday night, because of concerns for the safety of one of our daughters, she slept in our bedroom with Joy and I slept on the sofa in our great room.  My son sleeps on the floor there and as we turned out the lights and prepared for sleep, he told me that he hoped it didn't bother me but that he had been praying out loud every night.  He asked me if I had any prayer request.  I couldn't help myself.  I told him that I had just been so burdened.  I just really needed relief from feeling so burdened.  And he prayed for that.

I could feel my heart beginning to crack open.

There have been a number of other very significant ways that I feel God reached out to me this week.  Some I choose to keep "treasured up... pondering them in my heart."

Others I feel the need and desire to share.

One of the things I have been thinking of this week is how I have always had a heart for people who feel or see themselves as broken, persecuted, downtrodden, damaged, defective and less than.  Part of it is just wired into my personality but a significant part came from my childhood. And I've always been fascinated with the idea that when it comes to experience, very good can come from very bad and that experiencing what I did when I was growing up, though very dark on many days, was a big part of shaping me as a person who cares deeply for those who are hurting.

So, on my way home from work on Friday, as I was contemplating these things, I was listening to music and a song by U2 came on called Cedarwood Road.  And the lyrics to the last lines of that song are,

"And a heart that is broken Is a heart that is open. Open, open." 

 I started to think about all of the songs I love that have very similar lines.  Those are the songs that I love the most and that I feel the most affinity for.   My thoughts led me to another song by The Violet Burning called "Lights Out" which has the line,

"The sheltering sky And my heart is caving in
All broke inside It's how the light gets in."  

and continues,

"With our lights out.  This is the way home."

I was again reminded (by God?) that this has always been a core belief for me.  The only way to be open to the need for the love of God and fellow humans is the understanding of brokenness.  It's a gift really to understand brokenness and you can't understand it unless you experience it.  Experiencing dark and broken times creates a merciful, understanding and open heart.  The kind of heart I desire to have.  And making it through those times, gives a hope that can be shared with others who may need it so desperately.  So, yes, a core belief for me has always been that as bad as brokenness and darkness is, it can be a gift and so much good can come from it.  Unfortunately, the shackles and jade-colored glasses I had been wearing had caused me to drop this core belief by the wayside.  I reminded myself that I had thought a number of times over the years of posting a blog related to this whole concept.  Perhaps it was time.  I made a mental note and filed it away.

Yesterday morning, a Saturday morning no less, I awoke at 5:00 and was unable to sleep.  I tossed and turned for a bit and then decided that I might as well finish up a book of fiction I had been reading entitled, The Unremembered Girl.  It is a story filled with heartache and although there was some hope shining through at the close, it would certainly be difficult to call it a "happy ending."
As the epilogue came to a close, the following line appeared before my eyes,

"You'll never appreciate the day-light till you've walked on the dark side of the night, without even the stars to show you the way."

In light of all of my thoughts, my very specific thoughts, related to darkness and brokenness and the good that can come from experiencing those, it struck me that I should come across this line which laid out the exact same concept that my thoughts had been thoroughly occupied with since the previous evening.  Some would chalk it up to coincidence.  Perhaps.  But I couldn't help but think that God was speaking to me.  Somehow tying together seemingly random and trivial events like me beginning to read this book a few weeks ago for no other reason than that it was a free book that came with my Amazon prime membership.  Could God be reaching out to me?  Could miracles, which I had ceased to believe in, actually still happen?  And could they actually happen to me?

I finished the book and eagerly opened up another book that I was very much looking forward to reading called, All is Grace: A Ragamuffin Memoir by Brennan Manning.  Two of the other ideas I had been thinking about this week were grace and mercy.  I had been turning over in my mind that although there is some distinction between grace and mercy, they often dance together, sometimes so closely they overlap, briefly becoming one in form and purpose.

So I began this book and of course I read the forward because I am one of those people (book nerds) who always reads those.  The forward was written by Phillip Yancey and he concludes the forward with a line from a poem (song) by Leonard Cohen. (Someone I have loved the writings of since I first heard his song Everybody Knows back in 1990).    So I got excited when I saw that he was being quoted but my excitement turned to astonishment when I read the quote:

"Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything.
That's how the light gets in." 

This is actually from a song I knew but had forgotten about called "Anthem" which I actually own on a Leonard Cohen essential collection CD.

I will not lie.  I cried.

You can call it coincidence and many would.  All of the seemingly unrelated people, prayers, events and circumstances that have somehow collaborated to bring me to this moment.  But I cannot ignore the relentless message that is being sent to me.  I believe that it is being sent by God as if to say, "Remember your heart for others that developed out of the dark and broken times you have experienced throughout your life.  This is a gift. You must remember.  You need to remember now more than ever.  And I will keep telling you over and over, relentlessly reminding you, until you embrace it once again."

And so with this, the watershed moment has arrived.  The haze has been lifted.  Though broken, I'm unshackled.  Though I have spent time in the darkness, the light is pouring in.  And it's brighter now than it was before.

"With our lights out This is the way home 

Breathe and weep. 

Go on..."