When the World Breaks Your Heart
I think that tragedy shows us something about our hearts.
This week, our family lost a dearly loved one. I grieved for my husband’s broken heart at the loss of his lifelong role model. I looked on as embraces turned to tears. I laughed at wonderful memories retold and cried at the sorrow they renewed. And I see that the hearts most filled with love bear the heaviest burdens.
Last week, an ill person in Arizona targeted a politician, and 20 people were injured or killed in his rampage. Pointed fingers jabbed across party lines, and vitriolic voices screamed to out-do one another. And all I could see, all I could hear, all I could feel through the cacophony was that a nine-year-old girl was dead.
I shared my thoughts on Twitter: Let’s leave the bullshit politics out of it. A child is dead. My heart aches.
And I received this reply: Children die all the time, from guns for other reasons, or from other things. You must have one achy-breaky busy heart.
That response was callous, but it was true. My heart is often busy aching because it’s forced to beat in a broken world. It beats and it breaks, out of place. And I see that my heart wasn’t made for this world.
No matter our religious or spiritual beliefs, we all have the common grace to see that something is not right– something about our world is broken.
“Children die all the time” because something is not right. Political rhetoric is used to dismiss real tragedy because something is not right. Insidious disease renders bodies ill beyond repair because something is not right. Beloved brides and grooms are separated by death because something is not right.
But if it is a common grace that allows us to recognize the brokenness, it is an extraordinary grace that allows us to recognize the healing. And I see that only broken hearts seek the Healer.