I believe in a God that broke

That, instead of fleeing from the rot of the world,
From the corruption I hold within,
God drew closer and stepped in
into all the ugly mess,
of pain and torment
of all conflict:
the words which bite, and
the war tools of terror.
Of the misinformation that bewilders and confounds and erodes truth,
the pollution of toxic waste,
of quiet loops and cycles of destruction that eat
at people
and families,
friendships,
and society.
The things that go wrong, within -
the disorders and disease,
cataclysmic accidents that alter lives forever,
and without –
the natural visitations of destruction
by wind and water, fire, ice, and ruthless sun.

And God wept
raged in anger
cried out
poked and prodded at comfortable ideas
was bent and bowed
and broke

Yes, I believe in a God that broke

Who stepped into this darkness with eyes wide open,
who journeyed with the scum of the earth
- cherishing and loving them instead,
who offered hospitality to betrayers,
walked with dead men raised,
had hushed conversations with curious leaders

I believe in a God that broke

And that one day,
to show that this was no accident or misadventure
to underscore their commitment to the cause:
of love and presence in the ultimate brokenness
of stepping into the deepest darkness
in extravagant obedience
and devoted devotion to love’s heart,
there, a wooden post
and a man
wearing not much,
        and a crown of thorns
pinned aloft by crude nails
and facing a reality that would only continue to deteriorate
to the bitter end,
which wasn’t –
but instead saw the whole axis of reality
shifting on knife's edge,
- though, it wasn’t a knife, but a cross, in the back blocks of Jerusalem
Because Love was too great for any brokenness
any death
Love called the body back to breath
called the man back to life
called creation back into a holy realisation
of something extra-ordinary
that broke the brokenness
crushed it
kicked it out of the park
God dusted off their hands
and gathers us all up

So that now, this brokenness that could overwhelm
has a singing edge
here, amongst the daily discord
a saviour
a beacon that points the way
to a deeper, ageless promise of hope
that stitches me back together
again, and again
stitched, by the God who broke