Five Minute Friday : Broken

5-minute-friday-1This weeks topic :

BROKEN

GO

I’ve not written over here for a while. I don’t know why. The words just haven’t come, and I’ve felt broken. I had already decided to force myself to write this week before I even saw the promt “Broken” just how I feel when I can’t write words to share with you all.

I don’t know what to write, but I promised myself I would. 5 minutes, even if it’s agony I can endure that.

Broken.

The world is broken. I see it everywhere. Friends stabbing each other in the back. Marriages falling apart. Sickness hitting everyone. Diseases eating away at people. Cancer killing off person after person. Poverty striking everywhere. Kids being taken away from parents. Crime filling the world. Greed, anger, lust, hate, taking over this world.

This world is broken. I see it everywhere. I don’t know what else to tell you, because it is so obvious. The brokenness, it almost seems like I am cheapening it by trying to tell you of it. You have seen it with your own eyes, I know you have, because it’s everywhere, there is no avoiding it. You probably feel broken yourself. I know I do.

This world it broken. I see it everywhere. It’s true. But stop. Wait. Because that truth just make this truth even more amazing… there is a fixer! There is a renovator for this broken world, these broken lives. There is someone who can take the broken and make it whole again, make it more beautiful than it was before. There’s more good news, are you ready?

The better news is this… I know this someone, this one who fixes, and I’m happy to introduce you to Him. But the good news doesn’t stop there, He wants to know you too, and He’s eager to fix the broken that you see and feel. Really. And there’s more, can you handle more? It’s almost too good already, but there’s more. I know Him, and I’ll introduce you, because he wants to know you and fix the broken… but more than that… He wants to do it for free! There was a cost, it was high, way too high. You could never afford it – I sure couldn’t and it had me in knots, but then He told me, whispered it in my ear… He has paid the price! The cost was high, but he payed it – so for me, for you, the fixing is free!

This world is broken. I see it everywhere. But there is a fixer, so don’t give up hope, don’t despair.

I know you’re waiting. Who is this fixer?

His name is Jesus, he is the Christ, He is the fixer, He is the one who paid the cost.

He became broken, so He could fix – what a paradox.

His name is Jesus, He is God. Today I remember that He is the fixer, I remember the price he paid to fix, I remember Him dying, bleeding, oozing love and sorrow as he hung upon that cross.

STOP

 

 


Beauty and Ashes

Today I am honored to be writing over at Running This Thing Called Life for my good friend, and wonderful encourager, Jenn.

Would you join me there?

“I look at this pile of ashes heaped up before me, they are called “my life”. He says that He makes beauty out of ashes, and I never understood it before.

 The ashes are the friends killed, the loved ones who died, the family scattered in every corner of the world, the evacuation out of the land I love, the loss of health, the being diagnosed again, and again, and again with chronic illnesses, the nearly dying, the depression, the loss of my house, the letting my job go, the leaving my ministry….”
To read the rest hop over there, I know Jenn would love to see you.

One week, Two years, and A moment.

sick-girl-toilet-evil-erin--300x199I sit on the bathroom floor head against the wall too weak to keep it up. My body drenched in sweat, vomit and diarrhea mixed in the toilet bowl next to me. I ring my teammate, the one who’s a nurse. I hear her voice at the end and through the tears I ask her to help. She comes over and gets me into bed. The doctor comes, they give me tablets and drinks, and my nurse-friend stays with me.

I groan in pain and slip in and out of sleep. Another friend comes by to stay with me that night, sleeping in a bed next to mine. I scream with agony most of the night, I try to get up for the bathroom and faint. It takes me three attempts to walk the 50 yards. I make it through the night, sleeping at some point. I know because she told me my silence worried her.

I awake still drenched in sweat, this morning brings no change, vomit and diarrhea are still taking over my life, and nothing will stay inside me. I lay there whimpering and groaning. Pain and fear mixed together, exhaustion not allowing real speech or expression. My nurse-friend comes back, the doctor comes too. They agree I need an IV, the doctor leaves and returns shortly with the bags full of liquid in one arm, the other hand carrying hammer and nails. They hammer in a nail to the wall above my bed and she hangs the IV bag on it. The nurse gets a needle out and pulls at my arm, I’m too weak to even care. She sleeps in the cannula with ease, I’m impressed at her skills and give her a feint smile. The doctor leaves. She sits and holds my hand as we watch fluid drip into my body. I’m too weak to say anything, and my body is ravaged with pain, but I am thankful she is there. The one who cares without being intrusive, the one who cares always with a smile, the one who brings joy into horrible situations, the one who shows me Christ. I am glad she is the one sitting with me.

moving-boxes-21Two days later I am on a plane being evacuated for medical care.

One week later I will be back.

Only it’s been 2 years now, and my things lie stacked in boxes, collecting dust, and I wonder how that one week ever became 2 years.

I long to go home, to wipe away the dust, to discover forgotten treasures in those boxes. The nurse has long departed, leaving to start a new journey of marriage. The doctor no longer walks those streets. The one who slept next to me night after night, now sleeps alone on the other side of the world. They have all gone, but my heart remains, and my God remains.

Brown-K_Weight of Dust_ Station 12for web

He is there, and He has taken my heart there and kept it there.

Today, it rests on today. On those few moments spent in hospital. What will that man who calls himself a doctor but who tries to play God in my life say? Will he speak the words I long to hear “Medical Clearance” or will he deny me?

I live in peace, I walk in confidence, because I know a truth he does not.

He is not God.

God is my father, my saviour, my love, the author of my story.

He is not God, but I know who is, and I know that God is control.

I trust.
I believe.
I give thanks.
I rest peacefully.