Broken Open

I have a faint silvery line on my lower back where I didn’t quite clear a barbed-wire fence when I was 9. There’s also a mark on my neck from surgery to remove cancer in 2010. Most recently, I have a darker, jagged scar that tells the story of the emergency caesarean section that brought our son safely into our arms. 

Then there are the invisible scars. Infertility. The stillbirth of our daughter. More infertility. Nearly a decade of aching and longing that felt as though it might always be unfulfilled.

If I’m honest, my husband and I are private people by nature. It would have been much easier not to share these deeply personal, painful parts of our life. To keep these things between the two of us, sharing tears together in our quiet moments alone, in the protection of our safe relationship. It is not easy to be open and vulnerable, to take risks and be real and feel exposed.

And yet, we have found ourselves prompted to live these broken pieces out loud. To embrace our scars and allow them to be used in the lives of others. This is a paradox of the Christ that we follow. We are called to live from our broken places, trusting that Christ can restore and transform even the things that seem beyond redemption. Jesus bore the scars of his crucifixion even after the resurrection. Why? Because they tell the story of his suffering and his love for us. They remind us that there is life after pain.

Brokenness can close us or open us. It can isolate us from others, keeping us stuck in our own painful experience. We can spend a lot of energy avoiding our brokenness, masking it and making sure we never let that raw underside be seen by others. But there is another possibility… Our brokenness can actually draw us toward one another in relationship and caring community.  It can deepen our experience of connection, and open opportunities to be used in the lives of others that we would have never imagined.

If my husband and I had chosen to hide away (as we have often felt tempted), and had not lived our experience authentically in relationship with family, friends, and our faith community, there is so much we would have missed.

We would have missed the connection that comes with being real and authentic. There’s something that happens when we are authentic with those around us. We begin to find that there are others who are longing for the invitation to be real. When we share our experiences, we give permission to others to be open as well. We find ourselves connecting on a deep level with people around us. We spend less time in superficial conversation and “small talk” and instead share more on a deep spiritual level.

                               

We would have missed the opportunity to minister to others in painful situations.  Over the years, we have been sought out by people who knew of our experiences and who wanted a safe place to share their own struggles with loss, infertility, shame, longing, brokenness…  I have been so honoured and blessed by these opportunities to share with others. Sometimes our only ministry is the ability to walk alongside others in their pain, reminding them that they are not walking alone. And really, in our heart of hearts, isn’t this the deepest longing for all of us? To know we are not alone?

We would have missed sharing the depth of joy when our prayers were answered. Our journey has been faith-building … and not just for us. Over the years, many people have cried with us, grieved with us, prayed for us, walked alongside us. I don’t know why God chose to answer our prayers in the way they were answered. But I do know that my pregnancy and the safe arrival of our son impacted people in our lives in a powerful way. Recently, we dedicated our son to God in the presence of our church community, family and friends. There were many tears, overwhelming gratitude, and so much joy. If we had never shared our scars, and the brokenness we experienced along this path, we would have lost this opportunity to tell the story of God’s faithfulness. Because we shared the pain, we were also able to share the immense joy.

Our scars are important. They are something we all share in common – whether seen or unseen, physical or emotional, external or internal. Our scars have the ability to connect us to one another – if we allow them to.

In a beautiful paradox, our scars are actually a symbol of hope. They tell the story of the things we have survived, and bear testimony to the ability of God to heal, restore and transform.

My prayer for us all is that we would be broken open. May we overcome any pain or shame that isolates us, and may we have courage to live authentically. May we embrace our scars as a testimony of our survival and God’s work in our lives, and may we allow our brokenness to open us to God and to one another.

Arlene M.