I started feeling it in December. This unrelenting pull to return to the place that broke me wide open.
To walk the streets, to smell the sewage, to hold babies that shouldn’t be alive, to touch the face of the miraculous.
To meet God. Again.
It hasn’t been just weariness and burnout keeping me awake at night, it’s also been a terrifying longing to be spilled out all over again. I don’t want it; I need it.
Sometimes story-telling and raising money for the poor and the pressure of keeping all the balls in the air makes me forget what I’m working for. Who I’m working for...
“I need to go back. I need to remember,” I whispered to my husband in the middle of the night. He didn’t say much, although he knew our family would be traveling to Kenya later this summer to lead a vision trip. But his arms tightened around me and I knew that he agreed. I had to go.
And so as the sun sets on Easter, the holiest day of the year, I will travel again around the globe to be wrecked again. I find it fitting that I will pack my fears and tears and trek to a place that thrills and scares me to death. I will take up my cross and follow Jesus where He is leading me. I will go home so that I can return home.
Sometimes God calls us back to our place of brokenness.
He calls us because He wants to do something new, something different. And because He wants to remind us of what He has already done so we will not forget He can do anything and redeem everything.
I can’t help but think about another broken place on this Good Friday, which always feels sad to me. For Jesus, the broken place must have been the Mount of Olives, which held the sacred Garden of Gethsemane that beckoned Him to get alone and pray.
It was a place of comfort and calm. It turned into chaos and calamity.
It must have broken him wide open and filled Him with a Holy knowing that confirmed this is it.
Peace and pain in the same place.
But this mountain wasn’t just the place of a betrayal that changed history. It was also the place where Jesus ascended to Heaven. He returned to this place of tragedy because He had triumphed over it.
God uses the broken places for His Glory. They aren’t waisted. He redeems them in the most unlikely ways. And sometimes He beckons us to return to them. When we remember the pain, it reminds us of what God has done. And what He can do.
This is your invitation on this Holy weekend to return to the place God met you…so you can remember that He can do anything.
Because returning to the broken place where we met Jesus makes us whole again.
Next week, I will be blogging from Kenya. I can’t wait to share the most beautiful stories of hope with you. . .