The broken glass glistens as the light touches the pile of glass on the floor. What once was a beautiful thing is now a pile of jagged pieces of glass, neatly swept together, a little hill of glass.
I don’t know how long the pile of glass has been there, but I know that there are pieces of glass missing. There have been many failed attempts at putting the glass back together. Many pieces are lost. There are many pieces that don’t belong. There is dirt from sweeping the pile together so as to not lose any more pieces. There is blood from trying to hold on too tightly and from trying to put it back together.
Glass, dirt, and blood.
I hear a voice say,
“Give the pile of glass to me, I can fix it.”
I quickly jump in front of the glass pile and begin to reason with the voice.
“No, I can fix it myself.
It’s not a big deal.
It’s just a dumb pile of glass.
Broken, beyond repair.”
Once again, the voice gently says,
“I love your brokenness.
Give the broken glass to me, let me make it new.”
I whimper, “No. I don’t want you to have it.
I don’t want you to see it.
I don’t know what you will find.
I know all too well what you will find.
No.
I have failed so bad.
No.
It’s not good enough for you.
No.
It’s too bad, too ugly.
There are things missing.
There are things that shouldn’t be there.
No.”
The voice gently replies,
“Give it to me, I want to see it. Let me have it.”
“No.”
“Jesus, I want to be free.
I am tired of being in this place.
I am sick of this area of sin in my life.
Jesus, Forgive me.
Set me free.”
Jesus replies, “You do not get to pick your sin.
You cannot choose what I set you free from.
It is all or nothing.”
“But Jesus, I am so desperate for freedom in this ONE little area!”
“I don’t work that way.
I want it all.
Let me have the broken glass.
I want to see and touch every piece of brokenness.
I want you to show me it all.”
“Jesus, that terrifies me.
It is not pretty.”
“...........”
“Jesus…
I will show you it all if you help me.
I know what is in that brokenness…
I know that I cannot do this without your help.
I am so desperate for freedom though.
I will do whatever it takes.”
His hand picks up a shard of glass…
“Jesus, I am so sorry for that one, I know that it is something you gave me that had great value.
Look what I did to it!
It’s broken.
I am so sorry.”
The hand grips the shard of glass and drags it across the other hand,
“My blood is enough for this.”
I grimace as Jesus looks down and picks up another shameful, jagged piece of glass.
He slides the sharp edge along the palm of his hand and says,
“My blood is enough for this.”
I begin to weep as he continues to do this with each piece of glass that represents things in my life.
“My blood is enough for this.”
“My blood is enough for this.”
“My blood is enough for this.”
I can’t believe what I am hearing.
He continues,
“My blood is enough for this.”
Blood drips from his hands.
His blood covers the glass where my blood once was. All the years of clinging to the glass, of not wanting to let anyone see the mess, where I was wounded from holding on so tightly…
His blood ran down.
“My blood is enough for this.”
“Daughter, don’t you see, my blood is enough for your brokenness.
My blood is enough for your sin.
My blood is enough for you.”
This is only the beginning. I don’t know where he is taking me. But I know this, His blood is enough for me. I will gladly follow him on this adventure.
Totally surrendered.
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