There are a lot of words we throw around without really considering the meaning behind them.  I think one of those words is brokenness.  I hear it a lot.  We sing about it.  We profess how our brokenness allows God’s light to shine through our lives.  We talk every communion about Jesus’ body being broken for us.  And mostly, I’m guilty of it just being one of those things we say most of the time, that we acknowledge and maybe even are grateful for.  Especially that last one – because it was Jesus who took that punishment, that beating, that humiliation, that death on a cross, took the sin of the world and dealt with all the pain – that act of love didn’t cost me a single thing -not one drop of sweat- but in turn, gave me everything.  So when I think of being broken myself – I tend to focus on broken relationships in my life, or my broken brain, or my broke bank account. The things that happen TO me. Sometimes the things I cause, but absolutely the things I perceive as a hardship to my own personal comfort.  And I often think of the words in 2 Corinthians (partially because the song rumbles through my head at least weekly)

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”

          It may be hard but the Holy Spirit can sustain me through it. That’s a comforting thought when I feel like the world is coming down around me. But that’s part of the issue, isn’t it?  I usually think of those words as an encouragement to keep going when I feel like I can’t take another step, you see – I’m thinking about me.  How it affects me.  Whether God has MY back.  And yes, I believe God does have good things for each of us – but what if there’s so much more here? 

          Paul talks several times about being poured out as a drink offering.  I’ve never really thought about it before, and I came across a few bullet points that I found quite interesting, from J.H. Kurtz, a German Lutheran theologian who lived and wrote in the 1800s about what he describes as the “sacrificial worship of the Old Testament”

• Drink offerings were only to be offered in the land of promise
• Wine has an intimate connection with rest and celebration
• There was never a portion of a drink offering withheld and reserved for the priests or the people, unlike most other types of offerings, all of it was poured out and offered to the Lord

It was that third one that got to me initially. Nothing was withheld from God.

And then here Paul goes and labels his life a drink offering poured out for these people around him, for the sake of the kingdom.  Withholding nothing from God.  Even until his death, through being chased and imprisoned, he continued to proclaim the gospel, and as he put it “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day – and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.

I want to have faith like that. I want to be one of those who long for his appearing. I want to persevere and run my race like that.  But that requires being broken first.  And not just broken because of the natural consequences of living in this world.  But actually pursuing brokenness to the point that my very existence is broken down into a fine wine to be offered to God. But being broken also requires being hard pressed on every side, crushed, perplexed, persecuted and struck down. Because how else do you break down grapes and turn them into wine?

C.S. Lewis wrote that “to love at all is to be vulnerable.  Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.  If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.  Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements.  Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.  But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change.  It will not be broken, it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.  To love is to be vulnerable.”

If I want my life to be a drink offering, to pour it out for the sake of the kingdom and of those around me, I have to throw away my comfort, my safety, my perceived rights.  To be vulnerable enough to love the “unlovable” and yes, broken enough that I don’t shy away from people who are hurting because it may cause my own ideas and timelines and agendas to be broken or even my heart. When I honestly put my whole heart into a prayer asking God to rescue someone over and over again, no matter how long and how hard that actually is.  To be open and honest enough to share the tough parts of my journey and trust that God will turn that vulnerability and that brokenness into a fragrant offering. 

If you know me, you know that I love it when science stumbles onto God’s truth. They may not always (or ever) know how to interpret that truth, but they see the evidence.  One of the now leading researchers in social psychology, Brené Brown, says that “authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we are.”  There is a lot of talk in our culture today about living an authentic life and embracing who we really are.   I am one thousand percent on board.  Just not the popular interpretation. Over and over again people are realizing that we are made to live authentically.

So who do we think we’re supposed to be? The culture, the world, tells us that we are whoever or whatever we “choose” to be.  That we’re supposed to be strong, that we can pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, independent of any assistance (especially from some make believe God in the sky).  We’re “supposed” to be happy and love whoever we want and live in whatever way pleases us for the moment.  That we should shrug off the old way of being judgmental and just say everything is okay.  Even people I know that want to follow Jesus struggle with this idea that they’re “supposed” to be fixed and “shiny plastic people”, and when the reality is completely different, it opens doors to all sorts of damaging junk to enter our lives as we pursue “fixing” that piece.  

But, if that’s who we should be…who are we really? We are the sons and daughters of the creator of the universe. The creator of us.   And we were made for relationship and love.  We were made to be united.  And that doesn’t come without vulnerability.  Without being crushed and poured out.  We have to prioritize relationship and each other’s welfare above our own comfort.  Even above our smartphones.  And I would attest that we are made to be that drink offering, poured out for the good of the kingdom. To follow in Jesus’ example of being broken. 

That’s who we really are, and when we deny that, when we go searching for fulfillment in other relationships, our career, netflix, alcohol, athletics or whatever our own personal idol is, we never actually become full… we never transform into that fragrant offering.