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Jesus Broke Me and Made Me Free

Jesus Broke Me and Made Me Free

Last updated on: July 5, 2016 at 10:37 am by Kerry Connelly

Jesus Broke Me and Made Me Free 2016-07-05T10:37:48-04:00 Kerry Connelly

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There is something to be said about the way Jesus broke me, brought me to him, curled himself around me to draw me to him and to my calling.

Yes, my calling.

A few days ago, I wrote a post about destiny. Seriously, I know I make people mad, but I am always kind of amazed at what they get pissed about. It’s never about what I expect it to be. And this time, it was because I said I had a calling.

I didn’t think it was offensive to have a calling, but apparently I was wrong about that. Hubris, they said. I had hubris for thinking I had a calling, and that my post smacked of prosperity gospel — not a compliment, they were quick to point out.

This gave me pause.

And it’s not even that they were trying to be mean, necessarily. They were simply commenting; discussion is good and I welcome it. I’m not offended — but I am, well, paused.

I’m sort of an expert about not caring too much about what people think of me (okay, that’s not entirely true. I do care, sometimes. It depends on who they are and what we’re talking about). But when it comes to Jesus, I care very much what he thinks. I care that my heart is chasing after him. I care that I’m partnering with him in this world, serving him, doing what he wants me to do, and using whatever talents and skills he’s blessed me with to his glory.

So to confess publicly that hey, I think I’m on to something here, and be accused of hubris and prosperity gospel — well, that sent me to some prayer time and scripture. And that was where I was reassured, over and over again — yes. I have a calling. I am on the right track. And it’s beautiful, and it’s Godly, and I am totally free in Christ to pursue it.

And if my calling involves helping other people discover their calling, that’s beautiful too.

I also know that no one can know me from a single blog post. They can’t know my journey with Jesus, my history. They don’t know my prayers or the work of my hands, the way my heart struggles daily with sin, the way I continuously walk this fine line between the search for excellence and hot messy grace. The way I forget to rest in the peace of God, while also finding his rest in work. While remembering that I am enough, but also acknowledging the craving in my middle to just do something for God, because I love Jesus so much.

There was a long time that I walked around fully expecting a smiting. I had no idea what grace actually was, and I was sure that God hated me for all my multitudes of sin. I wasn’t angry at God for calling out my sin — I was fully aware of how bad it was for me, how it truly messed with my head, my heart, my life. But I felt powerless to stop it, and piled guilt on top of it for a total sort of self-condemnation.

Fun times.

It was a sandy time, spiritually speaking; a long, dry desert with no place to hide from the lighting-bolt wrath I was sure was imminent.

But then, something awakened in my soul. I joined a direct sales company where I was surrounded by Godly women, and their presence in my life ignited my faith and my love for Jesus in a way I had never experienced before. And my journey in that business was a faith walk — every day, as I strove to reach goals, I danced a faith waltz with Jesus, sometimes insisting I lead, other times letting him take over, always learning which one was better.

For the record, before I piss anyone off, letting Jesus lead is always better.

I died to myself and my dreams over and over and over again in that business. Ultimately, it was a failure, and I count it as my greatest success. Because it was out of that failure that I felt God calling me into a form of ministry.

That led to five years on staff at my church, where God used gang members and conservative Christians to school me in the ways of HIS love — of what freedom in Christ really looks like, and what it means to believe big, bold things of God. To understand how much you can fall into Godly love with people entirely different from you.

Not romantic love. The crazy Jesus kind of love.

The assumption that those big, bold things might be related to money and prosperity gospel is incomplete, at best. Sometimes the big, bold things we were believing for was a heart turned for Christ, for medical supplies to be delivered on time, for the healing of a marriage, for simple forgiveness when hearts seemed hard.

And then God broke me again when he called me out of that ministry, away from those staff members I’d come to love so much, and yes, away from that regular pay check. What sense could it possibly make to be doing God’s work outside of a church? When you will have no money? And you have no formal training in anything having the slightest thing to do with God?

But that’s what God did. Over and over again, I felt the tug on my heart, the pull out of the comfortable place I was in, and over and over I felt the call in Romans 15:14-16. Go to the outsiders, Jesus kept telling me. Go to the marginalized. Speak up for the underdog. Use the voice I’ve given to you for mercy, grace, and prophecy.

Crap.

Dear God:

WHY CAN’T YOU MAKE MORE SENSE?

Love,

Your Confused Child.

What I’ve come to realize is that God doesn’t have to make sense. If I trust Him, eventually I’ll get to the end of this chapter of the adventure tale and it will all be clear. Until then, my job is to trust. To Go, Tell. To answer the call Jesus has on my life. I am free to pursue that calling with the amazing kind of wide open spaces of grace that Jesus has for us.

I don’t have to understand it, and I don’t have to explain it to anyone — unless that person wants to hear it, which may possibly mean that they are on the road to finding their calling, too.

I’ll meet you there!

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