My heart is weak and broken. Through my tears I look at the shattered pieces. I cry to my Daddy in heaven as a child would her father, looking for some reason for the breaking. I cannot understand.
And then I fear. I fear that I am broken beyond use. My heart cries. How can God use a girl with a crying heart? I must be too broken because those people that God needs are the people who don’t cry themselves to sleep. God uses the people who accept life’s struggles as gifts from the hand of God and do not chafe at the weight of life that seems to crush the soul. My heart is too broken.
But then my Daddy opens my eyes. He wants me to be broken. To Him this brokenness makes me ready for use. I must come to end of myself before I can come to Him in broken humility. He knows that my heart cries. And He comforts my heart. He knows the struggles of my life seem to be crushing me to death. He carries the weight on His own shoulders. He mends my heart with His gentle hands. He sees my broken heart. And to Him my broken heart is beautiful.
