Latest News From Our Blog

327. Celebrating God’s Grace, These Broken Bones Will Rejoice

By julie

Rachel Dube is a busy mom of five, an author, editor, and Christ-follower. Be blessed today as we listen to a reading of one of Rachel’s poems from Voice of Truth, “These Broken Bones Will Rejoice.”

 

****

Become a monthly donor at www.womenworldleaders.com to receive a copy of Voice of Truth as our thank you!

 

These Broken Bones Will Rejoice

by Rachel Dube 

Crushed.Dreams are crushed.Paint the sky black and turn the flowers to dust.I don’t want to see the sky glimmer in gold at sunset.I don’t want even familiar faces, much less those I haven’t met. The laughter of my heart that sang and dancedLike the grass of the field when the wind sweeps byIs quiet, except when I have to fake it. And as soon as I’m alone, all I can do is cry. Make me the wind Without feeling or home or connections.Set me free in the world to run in all directions.I was once a fresh apple,But I rolled out into the sun.Days ago, I was lively, luscious red,Shouting, “Life is delicious!” But now I am dead.And because I am withered and my color is gone,I don’t want color in any part of the world.I want every hum to be my sad song.I have my black and white piles of paint And I mix them together furiously.I paint scores of life’s most beautiful things,But they all turn out as gray monotony.But somehow amidst the darkness, 

Just when I’ve decided to lay down and let life beat me,

Bright colors, full life and deep love,Though seemingly distant, still pursue and entreat me.Because Jesus himself, God who became manDied on a cross on the darkest of days,So that when I say I can’t wake up He tells me I can. He reminds me that He didn’t die And come up from the deadFor me, who has His power as my strength, To be a withered, hardened heart who won’t get out of bed. He tells me that when there isn’t a note Of music anywhere around,To listen to His promises, a symphony of hope, Sweeter than any sound.I feel Him in my heartBreaking down its walls, Building windows and doors, Letting light pour into its halls. My creator, who knows me, Knows every detail of my days.He holds me in His handAnd tells me to trust His ways.I am a jar of clayOn His spinning wheel.I sometimes ask Him to stop the molding,But He refuses to make that kind of deal. He tells me I am a special jarMade for a purpose very specific.He says that the things He’s working in meAre not projects that are quick. They often require the clay to be crushed.I tell Him, “That one sounds familiar.”He says He wants me to look like His perfect Son, And I am nowhere near there. So here I am in this worldOf dark grays and tears and pain, With light pouring in me from my SaviorWhose life and love are the hope for mineBecause He has no shadow due to change. His promises are for my soul: water, bread and blood. His life in me gives life colorAnd an ark above this flood. Lord, teach me in this very momentTo lean on Your grace and trust in Your love.Transform my hours of worry and tearsTo hours and days of time well spent.I need You to hold me togetherBecause I can’t stop falling apart.Show me that You can walk on waterAnd calm the storms raging in my heart. Put new life in me With every new day’s sunrise. Whether it peers through my blinds in the morning,Or hides behind cloudy skies.Satisfy me.Fill me up to the brim.So that every small joy Makes my cup spill over.And whether blessing or trial,These broken bones will rejoice in Him.