My heart is heavy.

This week has been a hard week, from Facebook ruining my Tuesday (I’m not sure how something that doesn’t even really exist can ruin a day, but it did for me) to my heart being broken over my own insecurities and inablility to trust my Father with the things I desire the most, to my early morning experience with Jesus and the brutal reality of his death.   I feel like I have been beaten.  My eyes are tired from lack of sleep.  And “this morning” when I woke up from the few hours of sleep I could grab after spending the night in unrest and then the early parts of the morning at our Maundy Thursday service at Cornerstone, I was faced with the reality that in those moments, 2000 years ago, my Savior was nailed to a cross, dying.

He was NAILED to a cross!!

His blood was pouring out of his broken body.  He was beaten.  He was tortured.  And, as I woke up I realized that it was noon and the darkness would have fallen by then, as Jesus hung on the cross.  His death was immanent.

The GOD of the universe DIED!!

I know this phrase is overused, and I hate that, but I can’t help but be reminded that I am the one who put Him there.  It’s not a guilt trip, it is reality.  I am the reason He was on that cross.

And, the blood that poured out of his wrists, and feet, and back, and head….it covers me.  Just like the Isrealites were passed over when they put the blood of the Passover lamb on the doorposts of their homes, I have been “passed over” because of the blood that Jesus poured out over me.  GOD didn’t just spare me from death, He took my death.  He rescued me from what I couldn’t rescue myself from.

Yesterday afternoon, I found myself sitting right in the middle of my brokenness.  I felt stupid and foolish for letting it get to me.  I needed to be focused on what I was supposed to be doing.  I needed to be preparing my heart for washing feet and serving communion that night.  I didn’t have time to be distracted by the things that were breaking my heart.

In the middle of all this, a friend sat down beside me and asked me how I was doing.  As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t lie to him, and I began telling him (in the vaguest way possible) that I felt broken and defeated, and that I felt so distracted from what I needed to be focused on (aka — being the “put together” leader whose heart was prepared for washing feet and serving communion), and that I didn’t feel like my heart was prepared for the task before me.

His words to me were that I was exactly in the place I needed to be… I was broken.

Brokenness seems to be a constant theme in my life, and sometimes I wonder how long I must be broken.  I have found myself pounding my fist to the sky asking God, “When will my heart be healed?”  But, last night early this morning, as I washed people’s feet and served communion I was reminded that it was Christ’s brokenness which allowed salvation to be poured out.

I am RESCUED;  I am HEALED because He was broken.

And, the brokenness I feel is just a fraction of a fraction of the brokenness he endured for the sins of all mankind.

Isaiah says it better than I ever could:

He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.
Like one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

Surely he took up our infirmities
and carried our sorrows,
yet we considered him stricken by God,
smitten by him, and afflicted.

But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed.

We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to his own way;
and the LORD has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.

He was oppressed and afflicted,
yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
and as a sheep before her shearers is silent,
so he did not open his mouth.

By oppression and judgment he was taken away.
And who can speak of his descendants?
For he was cut off from the land of the living;
for the transgression of my people he was stricken.

He was assigned a grave with the wicked,
and with the rich in his death,
though he had done no violence,
nor was any deceit in his mouth.

Yet it was the LORD’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer,
and though the LORD makes his life a guilt offering,
he will see his offspring and prolong his days,
and the will of the LORD will prosper in his hand.

After the suffering of his soul,
he will see the light of life and be satisfied;
by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,
and he will bear their iniquities.

Therefore I will give him a portion among the great,
and he will divide the spoils with the strong,
because he poured out his life unto death,
and was numbered with the transgressors.

For he bore the sin of many,
and made intercession for the transgressors.

Let these words sink deep into your soul today as you think upon the death of Jesus, our Savior.  He carried our pain.  He carried our sorrow.  He conquered our brokenness.  Soak in this reality.

I know I am.