Shattered

Our prayer lately has been that we would come broken before the Father.

That we would remember that it is not about us, but about bringing Him glory.

That above all else, we'd seek His will, His plan.

But the more I think about it, I feel as though I've approached the throne room, chipped and cracked.

A battered version of myself.

Suffering some minor disfiguration. Some long, shallow cracks that do not penetrate the surface.

I am proud.

I've tried to disguise it, just as most of us do. And I've approached the Father saying, "here I am! Broken and humbled." But the vessel of myself is still in one piece. Still carrying my pride, my sense of self, my reservations.

Tonight I feel as if He's calling us to be not only broken... not to just come to Him in bad shape... but to come to Him shattered.

Come to Him with palms outstretched, holding the pieces of ourselves, dashed to shards. Unrecognizable. Indistinguishable. An unworthy vessel, unable to hold on to that which separates us from the Holy One.

"Here are the pieces of me," I say.

"I don't know how to put them back together again."

"Put me back together again. Make me resemble you. Turn what I've destroyed into a work of completion."

But when we are shattered and we bring the pieces to the Father, we must bring the pride too.

Like the woman with the alabaster jar.

Who brought herself and shattered herself at His feet and poured all she had before Him.

"Here are the pieces of me... make me whole."

And He will throw our pride, our mess, our intentions, our selfishness as far as the east is to the west...

I imagine a pleased Lord writing everything down. I am standing, watching, ashamed. Only to stare in disbelief as He grins (pleased with Himself, very much like a child) and folds the paper into an airplane. Reaches back with a mighty shoulder and lets the paper, with all our shortcomings, all our inadequacies, fly away... fly away to seek the point where west becomes east. Never to find it.

Or a Father gathering our pieces in His callused hands.

"See? I love you even when you look like this..."

We must come to Him shattered.