Glass

It is difficult for me to resist the temptation of fragmentation, for me to acknowledge the value of wholeness when wholeness is such a struggle in these times of ours. It is much easier to accept the fragmentation pushed upon me rather than to seek the wholeness I know I should want, easier to set my emotions in a box for later, when I can actually deal with them, or ignore that pain in my back until I finish the assignment, or sit and stare at my newsfeed until the tidal wave of ignored feelings and pains dulls and I can use my mind again. Mine is a functional fragmentation, a resignation to the idea that I cannot carry the entirety of me throughout my day, that I do not have the currency, the value, or the energy needed to be whole.

I heard a sermon recently where the preacher shared a story with a distinct image. The preacher had had a dream while writing the sermon, and in it, he had a mouth full of shards of glass. He asked us to imagine that, imagine what a mouthful of broken glass would feel like, and that was a powerful moment for me. You cannot help but be aware that your mouth is filled with glass. Every breath cuts. You can't speak, you can't smile, can't laugh, can't scream. You feel like you will suffocate taking these short, shallow breaths through your nose, like your jaw will freeze in the slightly open position you have adopted to accommodate the glass. You keep your teeth together and your lips closed because if these shards of glass fall out, they will shatter even more, spattering blood from your mouth onto the floor, and no one will be able to approach you to tend your wounds for fear of being harmed themselves. You know that what is inside of you is dangerous, and as the panic sets in, you wonder how long you can keep the danger from escaping.

Now, the preacher himself was not as captivated by the image as I was, instead moving on to connect the image of a mouth full of broken glass to the one found in Ezekiel 3, where the prophet gets a mouthful of scroll and it tastes like honey, and to make an important point about the necessity of good preaching. But if Ezekiel's scroll, Ezekiel's words from God, taste like honey, then this image that we're working with, this broken glass, surely means that there are words from God that are sharp, and cutting, and difficult to speak. They are words that were never meant to stay inside of us, but will require some pain and some loss to speak. We will need to be careful with them. We will need help. But we cannot keep these words inside of ourselves. They will kill us.

I would give anything in the world for this glass to pour out of my mouth, to fall on the ground in a million colors and settle into a pattern of stained glass beauty, all sensible and lovely and prophetic. I would love to let go of these little fragments of pain that absorb my attention, that stop me from caring for myself, that stop me from caring for others. We all have mouths full of glass sometimes, I think, times when we ourselves have shattered and fragmented and the things that cause us pain must be spoken, and when we speak them, if we speak them carefully, and purposefully, these things become holy words. They become words of prophecy, words from God, summoning the four winds and bringing life into places that had been dead. These shards that we carry, afraid to let them fall, can, in time, scatter goodness into the world.

But it is not easy. It is not without cost. It is not without struggle.

It is difficult for me to resist the temptation of fragmentation, difficult to stand against the lie that I cannot be whole, should not try to be whole, and so I stand with my teeth together and my lips closed and breathe these short shallow breaths through my nose that will in time suffocate me and I forget that I was not made to be this way. But let me now speak that truth into existence. Let me breathe life into the things I have forgotten. I was not made to be shattered. None of us were.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Open up.

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It would be irresponsible of me to place an invitation like that at the end of a piece and not have any resources available to those who might be struggling with what's going on inside of them. If you are not in a place to be reading or thinking about suicide or self-harm, it's okay to stop reading now. There are resources below for those who want to scroll on.











First and foremost, for those who are wrestling with suicidal thoughts, you are loved and there is help. If you don't feel that you can reach out to a friend or family member, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available 24/7 at 1-800-273-8255.

If that's not your situation, you can still get help from a counselor, therapist, or other mental health professional. I think everyone can benefit from therapy. You can start by looking for a therapist here and if you need any help at all on that journey (which isn't always an easy one), please reach out to me. Some mental health professionals have sliding scales and flexible meeting options if that's something that you need. I can recommend the Calm Harm app that might help those who struggle with self-harm or thoughts of self-harm as an aid to mental health treatment, but not a replacement.

We all carry difficult things around inside of us, but the beauty of the gospel is that we are loved by the deep Love that made the cosmos and we do not have to stay as we are when we are broken and hurting. That Love lives in each of us, and brings us to care for each other. If you need help, reach out. If you don't need help but you know someone who does, reach out to them with gentleness and without judgement. I'm on firmer ground than I've been in a while and it's because of the love and support that has been shown to me by so many people in my life as I've started therapy and have, in fits and starts, begun to take better care of this body I live in. If anyone reading this needs any kind of help, let me know.