Here’s the deal. Five Minute Friday. You go find the little prompt at the wonderful Lisa-Jo’s blog, set the time and write for five minutes, and then just stop. Where you are, no edits, just publish raw words.

Broken…

I know no other way to say it than simply:

Community has broken me.

What was good community, relationships with fellow believers and lovers of the One whose resurrection we celebrate this weekend, these friends broke me.

Words were said and things happened that can never be rewound. If I could have paused the scene, the pain, and watched the words fly back inside our mouths, our eyes un-roll, and go back to a place where we all had whole hearts, instead of holes in our hearts, I would have.

I would have rewound the scene.

I would have unsaid the words.

I never would have pressed ‘send.’

Nothing would have broken.

For years I had a big problem with trust and love. I didn’t believe in it. It’s that simple and that messy – because to go through life not believing in those, it just doesn’t make for much of a relationship with anyone.

I had been burnt {and I had burned} and at the end of the day, this heart was broken – shattered – and I couldn’t put it back together, much less find the pieces to hand to the One who does heal.

But He found them. This broken, God-man held each piece of my broken heart and slowly, painfully, each piece came back together.

He introduced people into my life and I opened up, like a flower unfolding. It took a long time and He showed great patience, but slowly community came back.

I took a few deep breaths and shared my Story, I listened as others shared theirs, we laughed until tears fell down our faces and our legs collapsed and we were suddenly rolling on the floor. We went shopping and to eat, we walked around campus or sat quietly listening to music in our dorm rooms…community came, and we did life together.

Community has broken me. Again.

But in the right way.

Community has taken those broken pieces and re-broken them for me to examine and figure out the mess – but this time it’s together.

I don’t have it all right. They don’t either. That’s the beauty of it – we’re all broken, but we’re beautifully breaking together. We’re finding each others pieces and passing the glue stick.

And in the middle of it all? The most wonderful, beautifully broken One of all.

He heals the wounds.