by L B Cowman
Broken Things
"By reason of breakings they purify themselves"
(Job 41:25).
God uses most for His glory those people and things which are most perfectly
broken. The sacrifices He accepts are broken and contrite hearts. It was the
breaking down of Jacob's natural strength at Peniel that got him where God could
clothe him with spiritual power. It was breaking the surface of the rock at
Horeb, by the stroke of Moses' rod that let out the cool waters to thirsty
people.
It was when the 300 elect soldiers under Gideon broke their pitchers, a type of
breaking themselves, that the hidden lights shone forth to the consternation of
their adversaries. It was when the poor widow broke the seal of the little pot
of oil, and poured it forth, that God multiplied it to pay her debts and supply
means of support.
It was when Esther risked her life and broke through the rigid etiquette of a
heathen court, that she obtained favor to rescue her people from death. It was
when Jesus took the five loaves and broke them, that the bread was multiplied in
the very act of breaking, sufficient to feed five thousand. It was when Mary
broke her beautiful alabaster box, rendering it henceforth useless, that the
pent-up perfume filled the house. It was when Jesus allowed His precious body to
be broken to pieces by thorns and nails and spear, that His inner life was
poured out, like a crystal ocean, for thirsty sinners to drink and live.
It is when a beautiful grain of corn is broken up in the earth by DEATH, that
its inner heart sprouts forth and bears hundreds of other grains. And thus, on
and on, through all history, and all biography, and all vegetation, and all
spiritual life, God must have BROKEN THINGS.
Those who are broken in wealth, and broken in self-will, and broken in their
ambitions, and broken in their beautiful ideals, and broken in worldly
reputation, and broken in their affections, and broken oft-times in health; those
who are despised and seem utterly forlorn and helpless, the Holy Ghost is
seizing upon, and using for God's glory. "The lame take the prey," Isaiah tells
us.
O break my heart; but break it as a field Is by the plough up-broken for the
corn; O break it as the buds, by green leaf seated, Are, to unloose the golden
blossom, torn; Love would I offer unto Love's great Master, Set free the odor,
break the alabaster.
O break my heart; break it victorious God,
That life's eternal well may flash abroad;
O let it break as when the captive trees,
Breaking cold bonds, regain their liberties;
And as thought's sacred grove to life is springing,
Be joys, like birds, their hope, Thy victory singing.
--Thomas Toke Bunch
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