God calls the broken...there are no other kinds...

Anyone out there ever question why anyone can believe in God? After all, the hypocrisy of some folks in the community can make anyone second guess. How can anyone, especially someone outside of the faith, believe anything anyone says? How can this God use people from this world, especially with how dark it is?

I am broken

“God uses broken people like me and you to rescue broken people like me and you.”

Psalm 34:18 "The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit."

There is no such thing as a perfect Christ-follower. There was only one perfect being and that one being that walked on this earth was sentenced to death on the cross. He was killed because of ego, pride, jealousy, and a need for power by the religious leaders.

This may pose the question: why would anyone want to join a community where their ancestors killed an innocent man?

My own question: How can I want to be a pastor in a world that appears to belittle and demean those that proudly claim to be a follower of Christ.

i am an original masterpiece

"For you are my handiwork."

"Take these broken wings and learn to fly with the strength Christ will provide because I am not of this world and I have been set free."

This has been my reminder of my journey as a Christ-follower. This wraps around my right arm and was a lesson I had to learn the hard way as a young adult.

Don't judge a book by its cover!

When I was a 16 year-old, I was told that I had a female health issue called Endometriosis. I had a surgery to fully diagnose it. Because of this issue, I spent my last two years of high school being medicated to try and prevent the disease from progressing. This disorder only grew worse and put me through emotional, mental and physical trauma. This was something I had become used to battling. When I was in my mid twenties, the problem was to the point it was truly diminishing my quality of life. I wanted children of my own, and my then husband and I tried but it never came to fruition. At the age of 26, due to other medical complications with my medical history, the only thing I had as a safe option was to have a hysterectomy.

Post surgery I found myself in a dark hole. Because my body was adjusting mentally, physically and emotionally, I felt like an alien in my own skin. I was a broken vessel, someone who was no longer the warrior they once were. I was a ship on a stormy sea with no one to calm the waters. My spiritual connection felt severed, although I never walked away from God. I just couldn't connect to my purpose anymore. In time, and with a few people that were a major part of my journey, I slowly began to "heal."

In my time of healing, I listened to the song "Black Bird" by The Beatles quite frequently. A sensation came across me that I couldn't really understand. It was a mix of anxiety and peace at the same time, so weird I know. I remember feeling like I was being told to listen and relate. I was the black bird with a broken wing. I knew I needed to fly. Philippians 4:13 says, "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength." I was going to take my brokenness, my broken wings and learn to fly."

As I continued my journey forward, I met someone in ministry who, for a short time, gave me a safe space to express myself. In that time, I was reminded that we are not of this world, something Jesus said in a prayer over his disciples in the Gospel according to John. I had spent time trying to heal and process my brokenness according to the way the world wanted me to. I was told hurtful and harmful things such as " Just get over it and let it go." "I understand how you feel" (by someone with children of their own), "Well, I never would have made the choice you made that choice," or my favorite "I don't know why you even considered surgery. Why not even try other methods, there are risks with all pregnancies." It was people being people, but they had no idea of how much they hurt me, even if they had good intentions. And of course, I reacted and lashed out, in unfair ways, because I let the world get to me. By the time I realized my own damage towards others, it was too late to make my apologies. I had to handle them my own way. I was constantly trying to better myself with the reminder that I am not of this world. and my choices and actions need to reflect that. Broken or not, I am not of this world.

As I was already into my seminary, and trying to figure out why I am even doing what I was doing, the question popped into my head constantly on a loop: How can God use me to help others when I was too far gone as a Christ-follower? I knew I had made sinful, damaging, unhealthy decisions that impacted me and others in my life. They watched me spiral downward as if someone pulled the plug on a drain. I felt the icy-cold grip of Satan in my life and he wanted me to quit. I remember telling my mom during a phone call on my way to school: "It feels like his hand is in my hand. I don't feel him wanting me to leave my belief, but I feel him trying to lead me away from ministry. I am scared." My mom heard me and gave me support. I needed to paint, as art had become part of my therapy.

I asked God to help me. I asked God to change my heart. I asked God to take the shackles I felt bound by from Satan and from the World. I was caving to things around me: drinking, smoking cigarettes and cigars, all so I could escape the reality I was in. I surrounded myself with people who never encouraged me to stop anything, which only made my choices easier. I felt the cords of death encompassing me and confronting me. I wanted out. In my distress, God was listening, and God put people in my path that helped me continue to heal. I have been set free.

It took time for me to realize and understand something I was told: "God calls the broken because there are no other kinds." When I first heard this, I scoffed at the idea. I do realize that we are all called into ministry in our own way and with our own gifts. No one is perfect, and we are all broken in some way. If we take our broken pieces and rearrange them, we can form the most beautiful mosaic. God uses our brokenness to reach others. As human beings, we are quick to judge. Others look at me with tattoos and think I must have done crime in my past. My tattoos, and yes I have more than the three images above, tell my story and serve as a reminder of my journey and purpose. I became a wounded healer and now use my journey to reach others.

How can you use your brokenness to connect with someone else? What might God be doing through your life story?