Broken and Trusting

As I write this, I can’t help but think about the movie that I have just experienced. To say that I saw it would be to lie about the profound story of this film and therefore do it an injustice. I have just seen the movie Magnolia. Some of you may say, “Oh yes, I remember hearing something about that seemingly obscure film that came out in 1999.” It has taken me a long time to finally rent this film, but I am glad I waited this long because any other time in my life it would not have made sense.

The film Magnolia deals with the lives of several people. Intersecting and intertwining, each person has a great deal of pain and regret that they carry around with them. They have hurt others and they have felt the sting of others as well. What is seen in each of these characters by the end of the film is brokenness. I first read about this subject of brokenness and the film Magnolia from a book entitled How Movies Helped Save My Soul by Gareth Higgins. To say that this book has not influenced my own thoughts about this film would be a lie. I do not seek to plagiarize this author’s work, I simply seek to add to the discussion.

All of this said I pose this question: Have you ever experienced genuine brokenness? If so, what did it look like? What actions had to be taken?

You see, I ask these questions because I have been broken again. I have been broken many times before, but this time seems different. I do not presume to say that I will never sin again. This is not the different I mean. I have dwelt in darkness for the past two weeks. I have cut others off from myself and plugged my ears to the Truth. It has been like being told a tornado is coming and instead of hiding safely in the basement, I run outside, tie myself to a post, and hope that the tornado might miss me as I watch it from a mile away.

Have you ever actively chosen the path of darkness and sin? Believe me it is not as fun as one might imagine. While watching this film I identified with each of the characters. Like Earl Partridge and Jimmy Gator, I carry around so much regret from the mistakes of my past. Like Frank T.J. Mackey, I seek to come home and release the pain of so many years. Like Claudia Wilson Gator, I fear to allow others in and to see who I truly am. Like Jim Kurring, I desire to forgive others and live a life of purpose. And most of all, like Donnie Smith “I have so much love to give; I just don’t know where to put it.”

I have come to the Lord lately broken from the fall of my sin, knowing that I actively walked away from Him. In so doing, I recognize yet again my significant need for a Savior who loves and accepts me, crap and all. Although I identify with these characters, I am not left to my own devices to find fulfillment of these desires like they are. I have the great joy of finding it in the Lord and trusting who He says I am. Trust is a very hard thing to do, and right now there are so many things up in the air when it comes to my future. I have trusted God before, and to think on those times is very sweet. Brennan Manning says in his book Ruthless Trust, “When we wander off the path, that trust pulls us back; and we do not flinch, hesitate, or worry about being unwelcome in the Father’s arms.” He goes on to say that we have confidence that this trust “gives God pleasure.” It is this trust that has pulled me back and allowed me to walk onward out of the darkness and through the brokenness.

Changes have been made and continue to be made in my life, and knowing that this time of sin in my life has strengthened my faith is an odd thing to think about. I guess that is what brokenness has been like in my life, realizing that I can’t walk in darkness, and turning from it to the trust and security I have in my Father’s arms.

I was broken
Every prayer that I had spoken
Reached Your ears and all my tears weren’t cried in vain
You carried all my pain
And put me back together again
You watch over me in the darkest valleys
You watch over me when the night seems long
You help me to see the way before me
You watch over me; You watch over me

- Aaron Shust, Watch Over Me, Whispered and Shouted (2007)