Broken

Brokenness before God, that mirror is broken: How great is this brokenness, how much more than strength? Broken, wonderfully broken. I am broken; the hateful image in the darkness is gone, destroyed. I am broken!

How can I stand before God? How can this brokenness be before Him? How was I broken? Praise God, I am broken, for that thing I was could not stand before God but that it was destroyed. And He was the one who broke. My creator who made me, formed me, died; my fault, grievous. I have murdered God!

I saw myself in the mirror—I was an image of Him—my corrupted and ugly self, unworthy for what I was made, now perverted and made profane. He broke Himself on my behalf so that I too could be broken; But the thing, the whole of the thing, would not be broken, the image of God remained—How could God see himself in me until I was broken? How could I possess His wholeness until I as broken?

Please be broken like me, for what cannot be broken remains.

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