Creatures of a Broken Heart

Dave Brisbin 10.27.19 In speaking about the pain and disturbance of breaking out into larger spheres of awareness—being born again intellectually and spiritually—an ancient Chinese philosopher says, “you can’t speak of ocean to a wellfrog, the creature of a narrow sphere; you can’t speak of ice to a summer insect, the creature of a season.” To that I would add, “you can’t speak of perfect love to a human being, the creature of a broken heart.” Our broken hearts, as surely as the frog’s well or insect’s lifespan, wall us off from something so far from our imagined reality as to be inconceivable. How is it possible for us to break through the hurt, trauma, and need for defensive posture just long enough to glimpse the ocean of God’s love? The quick answer is faith—reeling off from the book of Hebrews that without faith it is impossible to please God. But that verse, so often used as a club over the head of the slightest admission of doubt or vulnerability, as if faith was the power we wield over uncertainty and vulnerability, flies in the face of a careful look at what the writer of Hebrews is actually saying. Faith is not the end of doubt, but the beginning of trust—the action of living as if what we say we believe is actually and already true, which brings us out of the narrow birth canal of our limitations and into the bright hugeness of a bigger bite of truth.