Sweetly Broken

Wednesday was not my day.

It started when I left the library at 12:30am, stumped by how to parametrize a sphere cut by a cylinder.
After class, the sphere stumped me again, this time in the form of two concentric conducting spheres. Frustrated at myself not being able to finish, I called Greg for dinner and church. I explained my spherical difficulties, and he responded with Chesterton, saying that leaving the spheres behind for praise and communion was putting the Cross above the Ball. I laughed.

And then I backed into concrete rebar. In my newly fixed car.
And then I was too flustered to watch Greg as he gave me directions on how to get out.

We eventually made it to church, and I organized my team.
I’ve been looking forward to Praise and Communion: a place of quietness, peace, Love, worship, and communion with friends and Saints.

Once my team had, with some success, distributed communion to the congregation, I climbed the dark stairs to the sound and light guys. And the door banged really loudly behind me. And then on the way down I tripped on the stairs and spilled the communion plate.

I finally slipped back in to the service: tired, shaky, empty, embarrassed that I hadn’t orchestrated communion serving quite smoothly, and ashamed of spilling communion.
I sat there with my mind unable to hold together a worded prayer as the rest of the congregation sang around me.

The strong voices of Greg on my left and Kyle on my right rang out, “I’m sweetly broken, wholly surrendered.”

If I weren’t so tired I might have laughed. “Sweetly broken.” That’s me. Broken because I am an imperfect vessel, willfully disobedient, easily stressed. I can neither solve spheres nor drive a car nor follow guidance nor navigate stairs.

How sweet it is to see my brokenness and realize that there, in my hands, I held the symbols of my salvation. The body of my soul’s Love was broken and His blood flowed to mend my brokenness. He knew that I would come to Him broken and sinful–not a perfect friend, girlfriend, mathematician, or servant. The whole point of communion is that I cannot come to Him with everything together!

Then we began to sing.

What can wash away my sin?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

Oh! precious is the flow
That makes me white as snow;
No other fount I know,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

I didn’t leave Praise and Communion with a feeling of elation or that all was right with the world. I still didn’t have the energy for the four more hours of homework, and I still know that I am broken and I will fail again. I left simply with the reminder that He is God, the God who came down because I was broken.

Wednesday was not my day. It was His.

This is the day that the Lord has made;
Let us rejoice and be glad in it!


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