BROKEN

There I stood in the middle of the parking lot with the hood raised on my old blue Chevy while trying to look busy repairing something that I didn’t know how to fix. That pretty much sums up my week. You see the “funk” had crept in and brought everything to a screeching halt much like the engine I was staring at. I was broken. Frozen.

My son jokingly asked me, recently, if I was going through a mid-life crisis. My response was “If I was ever going to have one, it would be now.” I have the privilege of watching and helping my kids as they learn, practice and grow into who they want to become. The progressions are obvious and doors are starting to fly open for them to display their gifts. While I’m overwhelmed with pride, something lurks in the shadows. Me. The “me” that has never reached the level of success that I’ve always wanted to attain. I don’t see doors flying open for me. There were many mistakes and plenty of missed opportunities along the way but I never thought that I was that bad. I thought that someone would’ve recognized the talent and taken the time to promote me to stardom.

Right about now, you’re saying “You are so self centered!” and you’re right. Please, understand that I love my family and will support them in whatever they chose to do providing it’s not detrimental to them or anyone else. I understand well the role of responsibility in providing and nurturing. I was told once that a man without a dream is dead. I’m not dead. My dream is alive and well. So…. why?

Suddenly, it began to be clear. As I questioned “Why?”, I found myself singing, while the tears rolled down my face, a song I had sung almost a hundred times before:

Why? The question that is never far away.

But healing doesn’t come from the explained.

Jesus, please don’t let this go in vain.

You’re all I have, all that remains.

So here I am, what’s left of me

Where glory meets my suffering.

I’m alive even though a part of me has died.

You take this heart and breath it back to life.

I fall into your arms open wide.

When the hurt and the healer collide.

As I mentioned before, I was already broken. However, according to the Greek definition of the word, there’s two distinct degrees of contrition. I didn’t think I had anything else to offer, nothing left to sacrifice. I was wrong. See, what I had missed was, in the middle of my mess, God was waiting for me to take the pieces of my messed up life, my failed attempts, my desires and lay it at His feet as a sacrifice. He was waiting for that voluntary gesture so that He in turn could breathe life into these bones so I can truly live. If your worship doesn’t involve sacrifice, then you haven’t truly worshipped. It’s not easy. It hurts. It’s scary. (Mark 10:32) It involves removing self from the equation. If we are in the least bit self centered, then we’re not at all Christ centered.

God hasn’t taken away my ability to sing or play an instrument so I’m hoping He still wants me to use them. I’m gonna keep singing and recording as much as possible but with the understanding that it’s for the praise of God and not of men. (John 12:43) I’ve brought my requests humbly and boldly before the throne. He’s aware of them. Now it’s time for me to leave it there for Him to do with as He wishes. Keeping in mind the nature of a father, I believe He has nothing but the best planned for me. (Jer 29:11)