Everything is Broken: Part 3
Everything is Broken: Part 3 – Good thing it doesn’t have to stay this way
This is a three part series documenting the thoughts going through my head since my move to Amsterdam. The first post highlighted prostitution and tourism in the red light district. The second post explored the brokenness in pornography and sexual addiction. Today I come clean with my own personal broken and how that put me on a journey of believing that while everything is broken… it doesn’t have to stay this way. I pray this post to be a lifeline of hope in the face of things that feel so broken.
The week I hit bottom was nearly the death of me. I was 18 and lying on my kitchen floor during a snowstorm, dramatically testing God, telling him that he had to step down and intervene now, because I couldn’t see anything positive about the world and felt that already my life was being wasted without purpose or direction.
I was broken.
I had hurt people, and I felt guilty. I had been hurt, and I felt worn out. I had fought intimacy and closure and honesty, because pretending everything was all right was the only way I thought I could survive.
I assumed that walking around with a heart to heavy to stay in my chest that it sunk into my stomach and made me sick every day was the way I was just going to have to live. Paste on a smile, even when it hurts so bad you can’t actually bare walking out the front door.
It all worked for so long that I was just as shocked as everyone else when the pieces of my life shattered all over my kitchen floor that night in the snowstorm and I finally came to the realization that it was all to broken and fragile for me to fix.
That’s how I ended up, first in a hospital, and then in the back of a church. Someone else had to pick up the pieces because I didn’t even know how. It is was in the hospital that I first had to admit that something was wrong, but it was sitting in the church that I first came to a realization that it didn’t have to stay that way. A different kind of shattering had to happen, but this time, it was the hardness and independence that was broken. It was when I came face to face with my mistakes, and the mistakes of others, and when I realized that truly, God will work even the worst of situations together for the good of those he loves.
I never planned to put something this personal in a blog post about Human Trafficking and broken morality. But I have realized that I can only communicate the hope that things can be fixed by putting out there the truth I know; that it all doesn’t have to stay broken, and I can say this because of what I have had to walk through.
That was the agonizing process of picking myself up piece-by-piece, revisiting hurt after hurt, fitting together an emotional jigsaw puzzle that made up the fabric of my heart. I had to grapple with the reality that there were some pieces that would never fit again. Things I had to let go of forever. There were some places where the piece could not be retrieved, and spots that will forever be open. But unlike before where those holes if exposed would leave me withering in pain, I also came to see that they are now more like sweet places of sensitivity, the hole that now allows someone else’s pain to seep into and move me with empathy.
That is why over the last two blog posts as I have explored how broken and twisted the world is, it was really all leading me to this third posting. I write this third post to explain why I keep stepping back into the debris. I know where I was, and I see where healing has led me in a few short years. I know the tension of hurt and healing has given me depth and a consciousness I never would have possessed otherwise.
So it is with resounding hope that I stand in the face of immeasurable injustice, in overwhelming brokenness, and in the dirtiness and slime that is the world of sex trafficking, and instead of being shut down, I can look into the eyes of a girl just like me and tell her that Jesus came that we might have life and life to the fullest. Somewhere along the way that is in the patchwork of what now makes up my life, brokenness and all, there is the knowledge of hope for an abundant life.
When we are lying at the bottom of immense darkness, there does not seem to be any way to crawl out.
When we face an issue as huge as the trafficking of women and girls, the disempowerment of those whose lives are stolen by the sex industry, there does not seem to be any way out.
But when I realize I made it out of the darkness, I know it is worth the daily crawl.
And when I see just one girl step out of complete brokenness into light, I know that mountain of human despair that we face everyday is worth fighting against, the pieces are worth putting back together again, because if only for the one, there is hope.
And lets be honest, the most beautiful pictures are the ones that are painted with the leftover pieces of our pain.
So while everything is broken, we are willing to face it, because it doesn’t have to stay that way.