It was a dark, rainy evening in mid-November when my brother invited me to a one- time bible study at church. I can’t remember exactly what the talk was about. However, I do remember one thing that stood out to me until today. The pastor was simply sharing different passages from the bible referring to how God creates beauty out of ashes, restoration out of destruction, and healing out of brokenness. Being the nerd in the group, I calmly interrupted the pastor and asked him; “Why does God need to break me in order to heal me? Can’t He just change me without any breakage?” The pastor’s answer came as shocking, piercing, and straight forward as it could be, “Marina, in order for you to change and receive full healing, you need to get broken first. He (referring to God) needs to break our ego, the idols we always rely on, and anything that takes us away from Him.” At this point I couldn’t argue further with the pastor, I was so pre-occupied with the scary thought of getting broken. Of course, who likes to be broken either physically, emotionally or even spiritually?
After the talk had ended, my mind was still on a roller coaster occupied by so many questions that needed a way different answer from the pastor’s. This jungle of thoughts was finally interrupted by two good friends of mine who happened to attend the bible study with me. They asked if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee with them. I agreed as I wanted to give my mind a little break. They offered to take me to my car since I parked at the other side of the building. However, I declined their offer nicely as I wanted to walk to the car and exercise my legs after two hours of sitting at the meeting. We agreed to meet at “Jireh”; a nice, spacious café on Lee Highway in Centerville, Virginia. I like that place a lot. They always have nice Christian music playing in the back ground. Additionally, their pastries are phenomenal as well as their French roasted coffee that one is able to smell from a mile away.
As soon as they left, I started walking to my car. At first, I thought it was the juggling of keys in my purse that was making that noise until the noises became louder and scary. There was no one in church but me. I decided to run to the car instead of walking, this was not a very good idea. It was dark, rainy, and the car was located at the unpaved side of the parking lot. As I started running and was just about one or two feet away from the car, a sturdy, small- sized stone came under my right foot and immediately I felt the pain of a serious sprain in my ankle. I was frozen in my place for few moments but I finally was able to get to my car. While sitting there, all these questions were jammed in my head as I started talking to myself; “Should I call 911? No. I should call my brother. Hmmm, Should I just go home? You know what, let me just go and meet my friends at Jireh and will see if the situation gets worse.”
I managed to get to Jireh, had a hot, tasty caramel macchiato accompanied with a delicious lemon cake. My friends and I kept talking and laughing about what happened to me as soon as they left church. I was making fun of myself and how dumb I was for not letting them give me a ride to the car. However, looking at my ankle was not fun at all. The longer I stayed, the bigger it got. I decided to end the night early and head home before it got worse.
Miraculously, I made it home. I had to call my mother to come down and help me get up the stairs. Once I made it to my bedroom, I realized it was not a sprain anymore, it was actually a fracture. Wait a second, fracture; meaning that my foot got broken for the first time in my life? Broken – brokenness. God has to break me in order to heal me. Huh, the pastor’s talk jinxed me! I just had gotten actually BROKEN! To be continued……