Basically, you set a timer for five minutes and just WRITE. No editing, no stopping to second-guess yourself, just a free flow of your thoughts hitting paper....keyboard....whatever. She gives the topic and then you just GO. Then you link back to Lisa-Jo and invite others to join in.
So this is me....taking the Five Minute Friday challenge. Feel free to join in! Just go for it and write for five minutes on today's theme: Broken. I'd love for you to share in the comments the link to your post. And be sure to link back to the Five Minute Friday hub!
Broken....
I just made some hard boiled eggs for breakfast, as has become my habit over the last several days. Trying to eat better, you know. Instead of pancakes or cereal (apparently empty carbs are evil. Who knew?), I've been trying to start my day off with a jolt of protein. Usually I make three eggs and eat one of them with the yolk and only eat the whites of the other two. I'll let you know when it turns me into a supermodel. In the meantime, I immediately thought of these eggs when I read today's theme was "Broken." When the egg is done, I take it and I smash it down....over and over. I smash it into the counter until the surface of its shell is covered with cracks, irreversible change that leaves the egg forever vulnerable. Quite frankly, it is ruined.
Friends, that is how I feel so often. When I look at some of the things from my past and even some of the struggles of my present, I feel like I have cracks spreading across the entire surface of my being. Every time I yell at my kids - SMASH. Every time I lose my temper with my husband - SMASH. Every time I fail to pipe up and stand my ground when there is something wrong happening - SMASH. Every time I remember my terrible sin - SMASH.
I'm broken. And I feel like everyone can see it.
Now, nothing can give that egg back the smooth, pristine, unblemished shell it once had. But today, on Good Friday, I am reminded that I am far more precious than any stinking egg. I am a chosen, bought and paid for, daughter of the King. He went to the cross and looked at me, with the cracks spreading across my tear-soaked face, and He suffered in my place. Those cracks are filled in with his grace as his blood courses through the rifts. They fade and then disappear all together.
I am left whole. Smooth. Polished. Pure. Clean.
I am no longer broken. By his wounds, I am healed.
Happy Good Friday.
(Time's Up.)
