Broken and Whole

  I crack the egg to make my breakfast.

 

As it sizzles in the pan, I look at the broken shell, thankful to the chicken who laid it so that I might have something good to eat.

 

There is life inside that egg. Nourishment for me.

 

But only if it is broke open.

 

As I use my bread to seep up the yoke still left on the plate, as I savor the last bites of my first meal, I think about the relationship between breaking and eating.

 

Nourishment often does not come easy. But it does come. It must come. Or we could not live.

 broken eggs

Christ’s broken body is not just symbolic. It is not just an act that lives in history.

 

It is our nourishment.

 

We eat his broken body in order for our souls to be fed. His sacrifice gives us something we could never have without it.

 

Life.

 

Life with God. A glorious eternal life when we die. A purposeful and abundant life as we live. A hopeful life when all else seems gone.

 

When we remember that death, that brokenness on our behalf, we are fed. We are nourished with the reminder that we are loved in indescribable ways.

 

Christ’s body was broken so that we could be whole.

 

Five Minute Friday This post is linking up with Lisa Jo Baker's Five Minute Friday. A weekly prompt with strict instructions: write for 5 minutes and post. No over-editing. No do-overs. An exercise in freedom. A way to let go of perfectionism. An exercise for some not often used writing muscles. Read more posts or link up over there.