Do you ever wish that you were made of plexiglass? That material that won’t break no matter how hard outside forces beat upon it? Do you ever wish that no storm, no matter how brutal, could shatter the windows by which you see the world, and by which the world sees you? Do you ever wish that you were as whole on the inside as you act on the outside -- that you could lift the opaque shutter that you have so carefully garbed yourself with so that a warm, radiant light could cascade in?
It seems as though our society has an impenetrable, perhaps even unbreakable, fear of brokenness. We live our day to day lives as if we can simply hide behind a shade of immaculate wholeness.What would happen if people could see beyond the beloved façade? What would happen if people could see inside the gaping holes that make us who we are, if they could see the jagged shards of glass crumbling to the ground in hopelessness? Somehow, we put ourselves under the suffocating impression that we’re the only ones -- the only ones who have something missing, the only ones who are crumbled and so seemingly irreparable. Somehow, everyone else has it all together. Right?
I am a victim of this mindset, and it’s not just something that lingers in my past. I am a professional in the business of putting up a front. I smile way too much, even when I’m not actually happy. I’m always “fantastic” every time someone asks because I feel like it’s expected of me. I hate admitting that I need help as I try so fiercely to help those around me. A passerby may look at the quiet, simple shutter I have drawn and see tranquility without knowledge of the angry tornado that has blown through.
Behind the shutter, dusty cobwebs fester. More glass falls. No light comes in. No light goes out. Just darkness. As I rest in the painfully comfortable darkness, I am somehow blinded to it. It looms over everything I say and do. But slowly, I’m learning that my brokenness is what makes me most beautiful. My flaws teach me to be more authentic and to be more empathetic to the struggles of others. They teach me to be vulnerable with the people who care about me and experience the fullness of life that comes from honest relationships. They allow me to shine my true light, no matter how broken its beams might be, and to receive a blazing light of love and grace in return. It's been a difficult journey, but a beautiful one nonetheless -- and I'd like to invite you to join me.
It’s okay to admit that you don’t have it all together. It’s okay to express your fears, your doubts and your weaknesses. As you learn to embrace vulnerability, the shutter you have constructed for yourself will be lifted slowly. A luminescent glow will pierce through the void left by your beautiful brokenness. With this glow, you will be rescued from the shadows of darkness. You will be freed from your blindness. You will see that you aren’t the only one; you never were. All the fragments that you’ve desperately been trying to piece together on your own will come together, and you’ll find a more authentic and complete wholeness than you ever believed possible.
But personally? I recommend that you always leave a small crack in your window so that a ray of light might always find its way in.
