Broken

“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.” –Psalm 51:17

Friday, June 30th 2006

During the week that I point to as my conversion to Christ, every wound, every shameful and painful memory, was ripped open and was more than I could bear. Through the years, I had lived a life filled with physical, sexual and emotional abuse; lived in a corrupt group home, lived in and out of cheap motels and in my car, and was submerged in the dark underworld of drugs and prostitution one encounters while living on the streets. On Thanksgiving Day 2003, I lost my father, my knight-in-shining armor, to a tragic and unexpected death. His sudden and abrupt death left me without the only rock I knew of, causing me to completely lose any footing I thought I possessed.

I had lived through the death of a six year marriage and subsequent painful divorce, involving two young and precious children; and experienced the struggles and trials unique to single-parenting. In April 2004, after having twice experienced the miracle of pregnancy and birth, I ended a 9 ½ week pregnancy through abortion.

It seemed as though I lived the majority of my life in that place most often referred to by others as rock bottom.

But through it all, I was fighting. Courtesy of my father and his convictions, I was raised to live life with a “warrior’s spirit”, and spent the bulk of my life constantly clawing and crawling my way back up, but only able to keep my head just above water, at best. I was passionately searching for anything that would give my life – my pain - direction, purpose or meaning. My life was an exhaustive search that led me to many different schools of philosophy, New Age mysticism, various forms of religion, and any kind of self-help resource.

There was an unquenchable thirst in me to understand life, the depravity that I couldn’t escape, and my part in it.

However, these philosophies and forms of religion crumbled at the slightest of life’s breezes, and this was the picture of my life. Time after time, after getting back on my feet, the wind would blow, and either I’d stumble over my own feet, or was knocked back down to those pits, by someone or something else. I was incurably proud though, despite my incessant state of brokenness; a “survivor” as many people labeled me; so even though I was a wreck on the inside, I wasn’t about to let anyone else know.

But everyone has a breaking point, and I was so tired of being so broken. I called a clinic on Monday and scheduled an appointment for the following Friday.

That week was filled with introspection of the most agonizing kind. A veil was unexplainably lifted and I began to see my life’s destruction for what it was, and it was horrifying. It was an intense and exhausting week. Previously, when painful memories would invade or difficult circumstances overwhelmed my life, I would talk to my dad. But on this particular week, God revealed to me in an excruciating way, the reality of my dad’s death and that I was left with no one but God to talk to. It was at this point that I realized how angry I was at God and how He was the last Person I wanted to talk to. So, day after day, I spent that week on my knees, in tears, crying out to anything or anyone I thought could hear me.

Friday morning arrived, but there would be no meeting with a counselor because of a scheduling mishap. I had finally been brought to such desperation at this point, that I was willing to do anything God would have me do to end the war that He had opened my eyes to. So, after two hours of aimless driving, tears and pleas for His help, I ended up in the parking lot of a small, little church. It was on this day that the gospel of Christ was shared with me one more time.

As I sat there in the library of that small church, I barely moved as the pastor spoke to me. I had become so undeniably aware of my heart’s ugliness; I had been made so conscious, by the relentless conviction of the Holy Spirit in the week that led to that moment, of my selfishness and rebellion that I was paralyzed by the sudden awareness of the overwhelmingly hostile rift between God and myself.

I was in desperate need of redemption from sin, my own and all the damage caused by the sins of others. Obviously, I’d heard Jesus’ name before, but when I heard it that Friday afternoon in the summer of 2006, it was like taking my first breath. Stirred by a hope of reconciliation with my heavenly Father, I sat there with my head bowed, tears in my eyes, and at a total loss for words to GOD. As shameful and unworthy as I knew I was, I crawled into my Father’s arms, and cried out to Him, begging His forgiveness, begging for His presence in my life.

I don’t remember the words of my prayer, but it was a surrender of all my thoughts, my desires, my decisions, my purposes, my meaning, for His. I drove out of that parking lot, a new creature. I had never felt cleaner, more pure; and I never dreamed I would ever feel pure..

Since then, God has used scripture to teach me that I’d been given so much more than a second chance. It wasn’t as though the slate had been wiped clean and God was giving me another shot at it. The mind-blowing reality was that Jesus exchanged my filthy slate for His own. A perfect one and one that was beautiful in the sight of His Father. The freedom I experienced in this is one that I’d all but given up hope in finding. Rather than being a slave to this evil and depraved world; or a slave to myself; I was now given the freedom to become a slave of Christ’s unto righteousness.

My life took a very dramatic change. Everything changed. Nothing was left as it was. In May 2007, my husband and I remarried each other. In addition, I’ve been obsessed with the bible and theology ever since that June day in 2006. I’m driven in a way that’s so hard to express, to understand this God that rescued me.

My life is overflowing in the grace that God continues to pour into my life. And every day I am awe-struck with Him. It truly blows my mind that He is so intimately involved in our lives.

There have been and continue to be profound struggles, and some days, I do feel as though I have been spear-headed down into a battlefield, but the Lord is there with me always.

One of the most profound blessings that I’ve experienced since becoming a Christian is seeing the significance and purpose that God has applied to my suffering; of my past and the present. Not only has he used it to give hurting people hope for real healing and those laden with guilt, hope for forgiveness and reconciliation with their Creator; but He has used it to teach me the absolute preciousness of Jesus Christ. The abuse and sin in my life was so excessive that only Jesus was and is so uniquely qualified to rescue me. I learn this anew every day as He continues to break my heart over the sins that I still continue to chase after.

Sin had a tremendous hold on my life, but the more He changes me, the more gross it becomes. I long to love Him, treasure Him and know Him more, as He continues to reveal Himself to me in scripture, and then take that knowledge out into a world desperately in need of rescue!

To Him be the Glory!

Kristine

“Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.”—II Corinthians 5:17