Break My Heart for What Breaks Yours

There’s a worship song from Hillsong that says, break my heart for what breaks yours.

That’s what estrangement reveals. Your heart finally breaks for what breaks His.

I can’t think of a better window into what God feels when we turn our backs on Him. When we rewrite history to fit a warped narrative. When we do things our own way and walk away from the One who has only ever loved us.

All the while screaming on the inside:

What are you doing? Don’t you realize how good you have it? Don’t you see how wrong you are? If you would just open your eyes to the truth. Come home. Come back to your family. We can forgive all of this. We can start over. We can make something new.

Every estranged mother knows that scream. It catches in your throat and settles in your chest. It wakes you up at 2 a.m.

Now imagine the Lord.

Imagine how His heart breaks when His children cut Him off. When we rewrite the story of His goodness. When we walk away from the table He set for us and call it freedom.

He knows that scream too.

There is a blessing in this pain.

The closer you get to understanding God’s heart, the closer you get to God Himself. And estrangement - as devastating as it is - is one of the few experiences on earth that lets you feel what He feels.

That’s not a consolation prize. That’s holy ground. And it changes you.

Your life has changed. Even if reconciliation happens. Even if every prayer you’ve prayed comes true tomorrow - things cannot be the same again. You cannot un-know what you now know.

Because estrangement doesn’t just leave you asking what went wrong. The deeper, more uprooting question is who am I now?

There is a before this experience and an after. You will become someone new on the other side of it.

So if you’re going to be changed regardless of the outcome - why not be changed in an eternal way?

God did not create you to be overcome.

I’m not saying don’t have normal, healthy emotions. Grieve. Rage. Cry on the kitchen floor. All of it is allowed.

I’m saying don’t get stuck there.

Instead of being overwhelmed by the question who am I now, follow it with another question:

“Lord, show me what You have for me now. Reveal to me who You say I am. Rebuild me in a way that honors You and lets me use my gifts for You.”

That’s the prayer that turns a season into a calling. That’s the prayer that makes the pain mean something.

So let Jesus change your life through it.

Use this season to grow. To heal. To become the healed, holy, whole version of you - for reconciliation, or for you.

Either way:

You are not who they say you are.

You are not who your silence says you are.

You are not who your story says you are.

You are who God says you are.

You get to decide how this season defines you.

Use this season. Don’t let it use you.