Broken

 

Broken

 

Just as I am

I come broken to be mended

I come wounded to be healed

I come desperate to be rescued

I come empty to be filled

I come Broken, Just as I am! (Cottrell)

               When I arrived at the jail this last week, the women’s unit was on lockdown (meaning they were locked up in their cell with no movement). The lady officer proceeded to tell me, “I don’t know why they brought you back here. They can’t come out and see you today”. I visit weekly and the women inmates that wish to attend church service come gather in the TV room with me around a large conference table; there I share the word of God with them. “Can I go to them?” I asked. Inside my stomach was flip flopping; I had never been back to the unit’s individual cells. She granted me permission. As the officer did her rounds, I was allowed to sit one cell at a time with the women and pray for them individually. Only two women stated they did not want prayer. All the others, the entire unit, ALL wanted to see me. At times, I was allowed inside the individual cell and would kneel or sit next to them. Some cells had two women while others had three to four women inside. Some cells had padlocks (women that had been fighting). One cell at a time, I listened to their requests. Only two had prayers for their case or charges. The requests were for dying parents, sick family members, their own mothers that were heart-broken, their kids without them, their kids on drugs, their own drug use, to get sober, their failing marriage, their baby’s daddy,  …… one request after another…… from one heart-broken woman to the next. Their ages varied from early 20s to 80s. There was something so serene in that moment, something so different I had never experienced.

               “Lord, break my heart for what breaks yours”. These women were vulnerable, honest, and broken. One woman I had visited for a month now. She had told me recently that “prison was better than being on the outside, less responsibility”. As I prayed for her, my heart was broken. I opened my eyes to see tears rolling down her face. In trouble for fighting the last two weeks and on lock down again, this tough woman was crying as I prayed for her.

               When I exited that day, I sat in silence. There were no words.

              Psalm 56:8 states, “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.”

               God cares. Our tears are not wasted. God knows you intimately. Every tear you cry has meaning to him. “Cast your cares on Him, for he cares for you” (I Pet. 5:7).

               I realize how unusual it was that I was allowed in jail that day. I recognize what a divine appointment it was that I encountered that man contemplating returning to gang life or suicide. I cannot solve their problems…. But I can give them Jesus.

               Lord, help me see those around me. Use me, Lord. Help me to see the broken.