Broken Seeds

 beauty from broken

Beauty is birthed from broken seeds.

 

Imagine a seed declaring its value based on its perfection. How flawless its edges. How unbreakable its exterior.

 

When the real value of the seed lies on what’s inside. When the most important process it has to go through is to be buried in the dirt, rained on, and broken open.

 

We are walking seeds. Afraid of brokenness. Afraid of mess. When, in reality, embracing the dirt is what bursts forth life.

 

Perfection is an illusion that locks away the potential within us.

 

I want to be planted. I want to dive deep into the dirt. I want to let the rains wash over me. Knowing that it is in this place of vulnerability that everything changes.

 

For when I break, I open up. What was once hidden becomes visible. And it turns out to be more lovely than the shell I was trying to polish.

 

New life rises up from the dirt. Different. More whole. Reaching for the light of the sun.

 

Five Minute FridayThis 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 practice of 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. Today’s prompt was: BROKEN. (Also, today Lisa Jo's site is down. You can link up on her Facebook page.) (Full disclosure: I write the post in 5 minutes, but I take a little extra time to create a graphic to go with it. I think that's still okay according to the rules...)

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.