I am not unbroken because of my:
I am simply broken.
In need of mending.
In need of redemption.
In need of perfection, I do not contain or desire.
In need of someone who loves me as I am, where I am.
In need of someone who holds my face, kisses away my tears, and tells me I'm wrong when I think I'm right.
In need of someone who pulls me close and assures me all can and will be made new again.
In need of unbroken.
In need of a Savior.
My heart turns away from the jagged shards and fully faces the One who doesn't deal in band-aids or messy stitches, evidenced by futile attempts at fixing.
He heals with hands covered in blood—blood that binds, seals, and protects.
I am not unbroken. You can plainly see the scars.
But I am redeemed, repurposed, and revived.
Day by Day.
Inch by Inch.
Refined by fire to look less—broken,
And more like the One who makes all things whole.
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