“But I am a worm, and not human; scorned by others, and despised by the people. All who see me mock at me; they make mouths at me, they shake their heads; ‘Commit your cause to the Lord; let him deliver—let him rescue the one in whom he delights!’…
…I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast; my mouth is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death. “
~ Psalm 22:6-8,14-15
I wonder how different the Psalms might look if David had just gone for some good old fashioned counselling? What words would we be reading now, he had written them as someone more “emotionally stable,” if he truly believed he was loved and whole and lived out of that mindset?
What words would David have written, I wonder, had he not been broken?
This reframing business is actually part of a longer process that started for real almost 2 years ago. Vulnerability has become an important part of my journey.
At the same time, there has been this other part of me, quietly beating myself up in the background for being too busted up for too long.
Like there’s a time limit on this. Like there’s something wrong with me for my stuck-ness. Like I haven’t been healing fast enough or haven’t been faith-ey enough to just go get WHOLE already.
At what point have I arrived? How long does this have to go on in order to be fully healed?
Are any of us ever done?
Here’s the thing: I’m not sure if the point of this life is individual wholeness, all of us walking around, shiny and joyous and un-cracked with everything figured out. Since when is the goal to have it all together anyway?
The truth is, this world is chock full of pain. If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that God is relational and He values community, connection, and people taking care of each other. If vulnerability creates connection and intimacy, and if we are not broken, then what is there to be vulnerable about in the first place? Connection often comes when we admit that we DON’T have it all together.
I am healed, and healing still. But life happens, and more hurt will come. Sometimes, things get dark. It’s inevitable.
What if freedom isn’t something that only happens AFTER I’ve dealt with all of the baggage? What does freedom look like in the MIDDLE of the brokenness?
I suppose this reframe looks a lot more like questions than anything else. But like my sister reminded me, If we had all the answers then we wouldn’t be broken to begin with.