He split his lip wide open. I couldn’t tell where the bleeding was coming from exactly, but his mouth pooled with red while tears poured from his blue toddler eyes. I wanted to do something to fix him quickly, but we were at a public park. No paper towels. No first aid kit. Nothing available to stop the blood. My sweet boy would hardly let me check to see if all his teeth were there, let alone pull down his lip to assess the damage.
He was busted up, alright. But he wouldn’t let me look.
The next day, the swell of the injury was undeniable. He couldn’t bite into a soft cookie without complaining about the sore. He was hurting, but wouldn’t let me examine where the impact had tore his lip apart. He cried to me in pain, but didn’t allow me to get near the wound. As I consoled him with a gentle embrace, I couldn’t help but think:
Sometimes we’re afraid to know how badly broken we really are.
The Problem with “Okay”
While it may be tempting to spout an “I’m okay, you’re okay!” mentality, God’s Word encourages us not to turn a blind eye to our brokenness and sin. The truth is: we’re all hurting. We ache for love and acceptance. We fester in anger and bitterness. We lament in grief and sorrow. We long for a heavenly hand to wipe away every tear: to fix everything that’s gone wrong in our lives, our world, and our hearts. But moving onward and upward in Christ requires first inward and downward of us.
Thomas à Kempis writes, “Who wages a stronger battle than he who labors to overcome himself? And it should be our daily desire to overcome ourselves, so that we may be made stronger in spirit and go daily from better to better.”
Surrendering our shattered hearts to Christ moves us daily from better to better.
The Blessing of Being Broken
“I restore the crushed spirit of the humble and revive the courage of those with repentant hearts.” (Isaiah 57:15 NLV)
In Christ, our painful confessions are always met by God’s gracious promises. There is a fruitful blessing that comes with being vulnerable before others and the Lord—it paves the way for redemption’s greater purposes. The way to His throne of grace always begins with our bended knees. If we truly desire the Great Physician’s healing in our hearts, we must be willing to surrender them to the care of his holy scalpel. This takes an attitude of humility and repentance: a soul who longs to see God work their helpless mess into a heavenly masterpiece.
Not until we trust the blessing of brokenness will we embrace the call to come undone.
The “S” Word in Motherhood
“For this people’s heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn, and I would heal them.” (Matthew 13:15 NIV)
Just as my son restricted access to his injured mouth, overwhelmed mothers can often refuse to surrender the sorest places within. Afraid to confess the dashed hopes. Terrified to admit undercurrents of resentment. We lock away our ugly deep down in the shadows, but their effect on our hearts still remains. These guarded idols, strongholds, and sins bleed into our parenting more than we’d care to admit—there’s always a high cost to maintaining a shatterproof facade.
But God sees, knows, and cares–healing is just a surrender away.
It is at this crossroads that grace becomes truly amazing—we needn’t fear to confess what Jesus already knows (John 2:24). He invites us to see with the eyes of his Spirit, to hear with ears of faith, and to understand by God’s Word the key to transforming a battered heart: turning to him with humble hands of surrender.
Dear mamas, let our battle cries be ones of surrender, that Christ would have His way in us. We’re desperate for change, starved for wholeness, and fighting for joy with every step of this oft mundane journey. Yet, these things are promised to us in Him who is our peace (Galatians 5:22–23, Ephesians 2:14); Apart from Him, our shattered pieces cannot be restored (John 15:5). Motherhood demands daily surrender—but as we lay down, Christ bears us up and breathes blessed life into our lungs (Psalm 68:19). Our daily dying leads to his daily bearing, and by this shattered hearts are fully renewed.