A Broken World Made Whole

I live in brokenness every day, for my job exists in a
broken world.  I am a teacher but I am
more.  I can’t leave work at work,
because when they are broken, so am I. 
No, I can’t take all their burdens, I can’t make it all go away, I can’t
be their savior, and I can’t fix the pain. 
But I know One that can.  The most
painful part about my job, about living in the brokenness, about being broken
myself, is that I can’t put the Healer to the wounds.  I can’t give the Truth I know will set them
free.  I am a teacher, but it comes with
When I became a teacher, I didn’t know the task I was
taking on; I didn’t know the weight of the brokenness would make my shoulders
hurt.  I didn’t know their lives would
become so important to me.  I became a
teacher because I wanted to change the world, but I didn’t know the cost it
takes, the sacrifice involved for making that come true.
I exhaust myself day after day, preparing, prepping,
correcting, stressing, planning, correcting, coaching, correcting…and it goes on
and on.  I spend my time with my players,
building team chemistry, researching ways to motivate them, wanting the best
for them.  My day is full of work, from 7
to 7 I don’t set foot in my own place. 
School is practically my home. 
When time finally catches up with me, and I have a moment to call my
own, that’s when the loneliness sinks in. 
That’s when I cry.  That’s when
the burden seems too much to bear.  And
their faces come flooding back as if I had never left:
The boy who is bullied and tries to hide that he
cares.  The one who cries himself to
sleep at night, letting pain scribble its way out on to the lines of his
journal.  The boy who smokes weed to
escape the worries and stresses of life; he calls for help, but it’s more of a
call for attention.  The boy whose father
is in prison; he tried to hide the pain, the
questions, the anger, the shock, but it’s all catching up with him.  He looks his father in the face behind those
prison bars and cries. He cries but tries to hide.  The girl who is insecure and can’t bear to stand in front of her peers.  The girl who was in the hospital for attempted suicide.  The girl who lusts after “men” because she’s trying to deal with sexual assault from her past.  The girl who lost herself when she gave herself to a boy she thought she loved; she lost her character, her purpose, a piece of herself she’s desperately trying to gain back but doesn’t know how.  She’s hooked on that feeling of being desired. Student after student–they each have a story of brokenness, and when they can’t stand
the thought, the pain anymore, they begin not
to care; if they don’t care, it doesn’t hurt as much, right?  But they start not to care about anything… 
But these stories are not just about some “boy” or
“girl.”  No, they are my students; they
are the broken hearts I see every day. 
They don’t know I know all that I know. 
They don’t know I cry for them. 
They don’t know I break for them. 
They don’t know I wish I could take the pain for them.  They don’t know the One I want to share with
them.  For, He is the One who can take it
all away.  He is the one who took on so
much brokenness that he died under its burden, in order to bring healing and

So, though I wither under the weight, though I come home
lonely and frustrated, when I seek for comfort I don’t have, when I am too busy
for the One I yearn to share, He still holds me.  He asks for the burdens, so I’ll lay them
down.  Lord, take my burdens, take my
brokenness, and most of all, take theirs. 
You are the Healer, and we are the wounds.  Make this broken world whole.  

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