Ultimately, we long for heaven where we will experience the fullness of our longings. We will be free from suffering and struggling. We will rejoice with delight and rest in being made new, without any effort of our own. But we are not very good at waiting. I remember pointing this out to one of my young clients. She had just returned from inpatient treatment for her heroin addiction. “Don’t tell me to wait for heaven,” she snapped. “I am only nineteen years old! I need something right now!”

The tension between wanting more and waiting for it can be excruciating and heartbreaking. In fact, our longings can just break us – break our backs, break our hearts, and break our spirits. Ernest Hemingway wrote, “The world breaks us all,” and then he killed himself unable to bear the staggering weight of all his brokenness.

Sometimes it’s good to have a literal picture of our brokenness. Find a piece of glass. I used a large glass platter. Now find a safe place and a hammer. Smash your piece of glass into a million pieces. Let it represent your brokenness. Perhaps it is a broken dream, a failed marriage, a difficult relationships, financial ruin, or even spiritual distress that painfully reminds you that you have wanted good things only to find yourself still wanting. As you look at the sharp, jagged pieces of your brokenness, you can understand the pain. Brokenness wounds us.

Did you know that God is broken? The New Testament tells us that He was broken for us (1 Corinthians 11). This Scripture is talking about Christ’s body – about that day when Jesus surrendered His longings, hung naked, nailed to a cross and said, “Father forgive them; for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). For they know not what they do. If there ever was a phrase that described us and our pursuit to fulfill our longings, this was it.

I believe in this story God is saying, “I give you My Son, broken for you, My deepest wound to forgive and heal your deepest wound.” Our wounds are where His wound – His love – can get in.

Consider offering all your brokenness and woundedness to God for His redemptive touch. Don’t tell Him how to fix it, heal you, or reshape your brokenness. Just offer it to Him, trusting that “by His wounds, we are healed” (Isaiah 53:2-6). If you can, leave your literal broken pieces of glass in disarray for a year. Mark this date. In one year return to the ruins and contemplate God’s healing presence in your life. You might want to shape the broken pieces into a mosaic to memorialize God joining you in your wounds.