Just seconds ago, this popular Christian song started playing in my head. Out of the blue. It just played. And the music started at the point where the lyrics say, “…beauty in the broken…” Boom. I know God has been wanting me to reflect on this topic for some time now. So, now I must.

Once again, I am in a season that drives me crazy with mixed emotions. These emotions may be categorized into two kinds – bad and good. The bad emotion is frustration. This season is frustrating because it surprises me with strong doses of truths that flashes their bright searchlights on my deceived psyche that has been comfortably hiding in the dark.

To be able to survive mere confrontations with these truths, there is undeniably a need for equally potent doses of grace. For when your worst enemy slaps you on the face with the reality of your imperfection and highly inaccurate self image, you will be tempted to run away into the cave of denial. But face, you must, these mirrors. Even if it means shrinking to the size of a microscopic cell. Besides, it would be nice to hide from eyes that might have been seeing these smudges on your face all these time.

When I said, “truths,” I am referring to ugly truths about myself – my irritatingly dumb mistakes, my wicked thoughts and reactions, my embarassing selfish agendas, my foolish tendencies, my indulgence to sinful compromise … (some of you are beginning to think that I’m exaggerating), my imperfections… Most importantly, I am referring to the very things I abhor only to find them right inside of me as well.
Thus, I hate this season because it makes me hate myself to the point of wanting to run away from truths about who I REALLY am.

The second emotion is indescribable. I am not sure if I am skilled to write something that would give it justice. It is a good emotion. It is disenchantment swept away by radiant hope. It is when all disgust for ones own filth and repulsive appearance is suddenly covered with love. Not just an ‘accepting’ filial love, but loving eyes of fire and a heart that is fueled by desire.

Who could gaze at such a sight (as me) and have eyes captivated and enflamed with passion when there is nothing to see but ashes? This love must be faith, hope and passion combined. It’s faith is real. It holds in its very hands the handles of hope. It has lenses that see past what I see in the mirror. It sees beauty in ugliness.
Like I said, the second emotion is indescribable. It is also worth it all. The remorse and the pain I feel whenever my blinders come crumbling off my eyes, when brought before this Man of Love, are turned into gold. I bring Him nothing but ashes and filth but I come out loved for bringing nothing. I am desired and wooed for being no one.

I hate the feeling of remorse and disgust whenever I see my sins exposed before me – like innards of a mammal on a puddled dusty sidewalk. But the sight of his face! Complete forgiveness. Absolute love. It is beyond me to love myself in this state. It is precisely the magnificence of who He is that made Him choose me while still in this state.

The second emotion is beyond a writer’s call to write because His love is impossible to describe. One thing though, it makes the first emotion worth it all. So let me be broken. Let me see – myself. And my JC, eyes on me.


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