God can use us

“Can I tell you something?”

When you hear words like that, do you feel nervous? Intrigued? What about when you think of saying those words? That question can be the precursor to a holy and hard confession.

In a previous article, I argued that God can take what is broken and make it beautiful (“What If It Could Be Beautiful?” Aug. 7). If that is true, I reasoned, perhaps we can learn to fear brokenness less (“Brokenness: Facing our Fear,” Sept. 4). In this third and final article, I want to explore the role of community in facing brokenness. A friend recently commented on the importance of community, a safe space in which to let down our guard and name our fears. So here I want to ask: What does it look like to acknowledge and face brokenness together?

We all need at least one person with whom we can share our most painful realities. When we are able to speak of difficult things, they are put in perspective and the troubling situation can feel a little more bearable. Admittedly, sharing painful personal realities is difficult. Most of us are more inclined to hide areas in which we feel shame and deep hurt. Exposure feels dangerous – and sometimes for good reason, if others react with judgement, blame or pity. And yet vulnerability is a prerequisite for intimacy, which we all need and long for.

Ideally, our churches would be safe places in which to share our personal brokenness. In the New Testament, Paul exhorted members of the Galatian churches to “Carry each other’s burdens” (Gal. 6:2a), and his words still apply to our congregations. We are called to be people of compassion, a word that literally means “co-suffering.” Sadly, our churches are not always safe spaces in which we can be vulnerable with each other. If we are to become communities in which we bear each other’s burdens, sharing sorrows as well as joys, we need to address the reasons we fail each other. Here are a few of them.

Before we can open up

First, there usually needs to be some level of relationship between two people before they are willing to be open with each other. After the disruptions of the COVID years, I feel disconnected from many people in my congregation, and I have noticed several new and unfamiliar faces on Sunday mornings. Chances are that is true in your church, too. A first step for most of us is to get out of our comfort zones and take (or make!) opportunities to reconnect with and/or meet people in our churches.

Second, we need to hold people’s stories carefully. We all carry some level of brokenness, living as we do in a world distorted by sin. Some of us are more comfortable than others when it comes to sharing the difficult parts of our lives. We also differ in our modes of sharing; one person might be willing to share specific details, in real time, with a single other person. Someone else might share their struggle in a more general way with the whole congregation – through a prayer request, for example. The key, I think, is that each person must be able to choose what to share and with whom to share it. You and I do not have the right to share details of another person’s struggle unless we are given permission to do so.

When I talk with someone, I usually have a simultaneous inner conversation happening. As I consider how I might respond, I ask myself, “Is this information mine to share?” Sometimes the answer is obviously yes or clearly no. When the answer is unclear, I tend to err on the side of caution, deciding not to share what might be someone else’s sensitive information. To me, this seems like a logical application of what we often refer to as the golden rule: “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets” (Matt. 7:12). The golden rule, of course, is really just another way of framing the second Great Commandment, to love your neighbour as yourself (Mark 12:31).

The corollary of wanting trustworthy people with whom to share our brokenness is that we ourselves need to be trustworthy people in order to create a safe community. If we long for people to hold our broken pieces carefully, then we need to be ready to do the same. If we want to open the way for people to be vulnerable, with us as individuals and in our church communities, then we ourselves need to be vulnerable. This is often difficult and messy. It is also beautiful.

For many of us, sharing our brokenness can and should include therapy. My church participates in a program called CAP (Congregational Assistance Plan). As a congregation, we subscribe to CAP on a yearly basis. With our CAP plan, each member of our church is eligible for a certain number of counselling sessions with a Christian counsellor per year. Does your church have a similar plan? If not, it may be something you could collectively consider.

Being a Christian does not mean life is struggle-free. Our worship services need to provide time and space for us to bring the burdens that threaten to break us. This can happen at several points during the service, but the Lord’s Supper is particularly important. In that sacrament, we remember that Jesus allowed himself to be broken for us. We come together to the Table to receive grace and forgiveness; maybe we can also approach acknowledging that we are still broken people. By his Spirit, Jesus indwells us and enables us in turn to extend his grace to those around us. One way we do that is by being willing to see others in their brokenness, accept and hold their pain, and remind them they are deeply loved.

Though we are loved and forgiven, we are not yet free from the impact of sin. “We need faith that makes room for suffering,” author Sarah J. Robinson says, “that refuses to deny the brokenness of the sin-sick world and our place in it. We need theology that honours the ache while clasping tightly to the hand of God who refuses to abandon us. We need community that doesn’t wait for Jesus to wave a magic wand and fix us before they can accept us” (I Love Jesus, But I Want to Die: Finding Hope in the Darkness of Depression).

When we share our brokenness with each other, we can learn to fear it less. We can start to become a community that bears each others’ burdens, demonstrating in concrete ways the fruit of the Spirit and building up the body of Christ. God can use us in his work of fixing what is broken and making it beautiful.