For the honest...

The price is high.

No one
wants to
admit
to being
broken.

That would mean
transparency
reality
vulnerability

the heart beating
in an open chest
raw to
                        everyone.

It's messy being
real.

It's not pretty
or perfect
or put together
or "sitting in the pew and watching" worthy.

Admitting brokenness
means admitting
what we all know
AND NEVER SAY:

                  "I am a sinner."

Just like the thief
and the prostitute
and the drunk
and the addict
and the prisoner
and the gossip
and the lukewarm
and the liar
and the cheater
and the...{fill in awful sin here}.

WE ARE ALL THE SAME.

The level of sin deems
NO ONE
more worthy of His
grace.

Broken is what binds us
together.

Broken is what the cross
bled.

Broken is the honest true reckless dependence on no one but
the one who broke Himself to give us someone on which to depend.

Broken is the wayward tired lost prodigal's answer to too much
trying and heaving and prying and achieving.

Broken is admitting wrongdoing and sinning and horrible humanness
that leaves no one exempt from etermal damnation.

Broken is the promise of a journey that extends beyond the grave to a home
we can worship the one who washes the feet of the

broken.

I am broken.

And it is beautiful.