"I've never seen, exactly,
who it is that you paperclip your knees,
meld your hands together and pray to.
But I think I know what he looks like."

–Your God, by Rudy Francisco

I write this under the risk of not sounding like myself. Of forwarding honest thoughts that may seem controversial to some of my readers. I don't write about my personal faith. If at all. I try not to, anyway.

It's like having a private, sacred corner that you want to keep guarded from public commentary. However, there hasn't actually been much need to defend it. At least not in the social circles I grew up in.

I was born into a Christian family, and I went to a Christian school. My faith was a personal decision, but also a constant shared experience. I've spent a large portion of my life attending churches and remaining in clusters of "fellow believers". Warm. Uplifting. Familiar. It was everything I knew.

If there is a topic I always avoid speaking of, it's personal matter. But if it bothers my heart, if it makes my mind restless, if it reveals a truth I feel the need to pour out, then my God, I'm writing it.

During church yesterday, I heard the pastor say, mid-sermon, about how he "came from a broken home". Long story short, he told the story of how he held onto Christ and finally made something of himself, etc etc. He delivered a good message, but the two words kept echoing inside my head.

Broken home.

I don't live under a rock; I've heard this term said probably a thousand different times before. 

I usually stop listening right there.

Not an uncommon phrase, nor an uncommon case, broken home describes "a family in which the  parents have divorced or separated." To countless others, it describes something even more complicated.

I will not shed light on my past, and I won't roll my eyes bitterly if you say it in front of me. But for something that I've understood and experienced myself, it is not a phrase that I like to use.

The dictionary explains the word broken as having been "fractured; no longer in working order". "Failed" or "ended" when spoken alongside the word "family". So to me, uttering these words feels like declaring a family as permanently damaged.

But what do we mean when we call a home broken? Who draws the line?

We've constructed this entire category for families with separated parents, but do we need another term to use for the families in which the parents are still legally married, but no longer talk to each other? What about one that's been fighting for years, living under the same roof with no communication and no love? Would that still be considered "whole"?

Could a woman today call her single-mother-neighbour's family broken, then come back to her own house and fight with her husband as they do everyday until well past midnight, all inside her un-broken home?

What are we calling "broken"? Or rather, who?

As someone who was neither born into a "perfect" family, nor raised in one, I first grew accustomed to it. Growing up, words like "came out of a broken home family" was plastered as a part of my identity. I've acknowledged the parts of my past that have shaped me into who I am today, but I remember how feeling obliged to label myself a "broken home child" made me feel like a cardboard box they slapped the FRAGILE sticker onto. 

After stepping into new areas of my faith, though, I'm starting to realize how much I dislike hearing that term. It has nothing to do with personal shame. I just don't think God would see something broken and leave it that way.

I believe that He's planned everything exquisitely. Every year of my life, to every minute I'm breathing. For every storm I needed to sail through, He already saw the entire ocean in a much bigger picture. As imperfect as my past may have been, today I stand here grateful for the things that were once broken, for they remind me of how He's mended every single piece. If not my home, then at least my heart.


Making peace with the past has nothing to do with what the world expects of you. It has a lot to do, however, with how you choose to see yourself. When a person uses the term "broken home", it's okay to choose not to identify yourself with it as well.

Now, I never wish to erase the things I couldn't change, but I do wish that society could learn to view it in a different light. I know my household isn't perfect, but by God's grace, it now fills my heart with love every passing day. We still share our jokes and moments that to me, will forever be irreplaceable. My family can be a lot of things. Broken is not one of them.

Remain careful of the words you say. Even though "broken home" doesn't sting me anymore, I imagine they'll sting a lot more to a 5-year-old girl whose dad just "moved away", or a little boy who still couldn't understand why his parents had to go to court.

Do me a favour; let's not associate them with something broken for the rest of their lives. Let's not make them feel like another casualty in a set of divorce statistics. Let's not wrap that label around their neck just so people can "understand." You don't know if it might break them even more. You don't know if it might push them back just as they're starting to heal.

"Too much to make sense of it all,

I know that Your love breaks my fall.

The scandal of grace, You died in my place

so my soul will live."

As much as I love writing, people might be surprised to know that my faith is one of the most challenging things to write about. 

How do you put into words the feeling of being loved by a King, who owns the stars, but wants your heart? How do you put into words the abundance of blessings and mercy He places upon your life, even when you're not looking? How do you put into words receiving a Fatherly love so magnificent, that you don't even deserve it?

After coming home from a three-day retreat, my body tired but my heart full, I've now learned to accept that love differently. 

---

When you're young, it's easy to think you have your whole life figured out. To play the world like a game of chess; know where you stand, make the right move, and you'll eventually get to where you want to go. But the thing about chess is, you always play it alone.

I used to think that it's about being good enough; smart enough, strong, or capable enough. I used to think that I need to just play my best game, and God will watch me from the sidelines and tell me if I'm wrong. I could read all about the great God I serve, yet still rely on my own abilities to decide "where to go from here". I kept turning to pursue a purpose I've crafted for myself, on my own. 

By observation and experience, however, I've found that life is rather fluid. You might think you have a tight grip around it, but as you press your hands, something is always bound to slip through your fingers. I can try everything and push forward, thinking that I need only to rely on myself, but I'd repeatedly lose my way. 

See, you can be the greatest person alive. Have everything you've ever wanted, thousands of people at your feet, and all the knowledge you can gain. But when the world hits you at "checkmate" and brings you down to your knees, there's only going to be One voice calling you home. 

By grace, where we come to the end of ourselves, where our "strength" is no longer strong, and in the midst of all our flaws, His love and goodness prevail.

---

It took me about three days of many moments of worship, meeting new people, and several different sermons, to hear how He's been calling my name. A camp I was actually even doubtful of joining, turned out to be an experience that transformed and renewed me from the inside out. 

I was exposed to the invitation to receive a love that I never had to work for. The invitation to pursue a life of a godly purpose. The invitation to finally let Him step through the gates of my heart that I've kept locked for far too long, and make it His. All this broke me free from the weight of my past, my fears, and my sin. Now my heart wakes up with a newfound peace, knowing each day that my life is not my own, but Christ's, and that He's in control.

A great God we serve, indeed, but we mustn't forget that He's a good God as well. 

If I live my life for Him, it wouldn't be because I was trying to repay anything. (What form of payment can us humans possibly come up with to "repay" a love that strong? A love that came down and became flesh, proved it through sacrifice and then conquered death itself?) Rather, it is so that my life becomes a living proof of that love. 

I'm slowly letting go of that tight grip, and it takes me bits of time and practice. I know that someday, the world will attack the faith I proclaim. It will slip failure under my door, and it will question the cross I wear around my neck.

But as many, many chapters await in my journey, I now continue to learn to let go of my fear of tomorrows. Instead, I do my part, and hold onto the love that He's promised for me.

A love that gives you strength, 

and a love that makes you whole.

---

I've been rambling a lot these days (which probably shows), so apologies in advance if this wasn't what you expected. I actually wrote this piece simply because of this overflow of emotions after coming back from camp yesterday. Also because I missed writing very much. Thank you for reading this far, and I hope this helps remind you of that love as well.

See you around.

As an opening, or some sort of disclaimer, I'd like to state that everything I'm about to write on this post isn't meant to hurt or offend any group of people. I am not trying to spark an argument, nor am I trying to "promote" Christianity in any way. I just felt that I needed to take a stand on what I believe in, and clarify some things in a righteous manner to clear some perspectives, both for me and for others.

My name is Joanne and I am a Christian. I'm a high school student, therefore I well enough know what I'm going to talk about. I follow Jesus Christ, I believe in all that He is. I believe in the existence of Heaven, and in the Bible, and in the power of the Holy Spirit. Spiritually and personally, I am His.

But I'm not here to talk about religion. I'm here because I feel like there is an obvious gap or difference between what Jesus is, and what the church is. Globally, I've seen far too many issues about how the church treats people who happen to be homosexual, or transgender, or anything alike. I know the Bible, and I know Christ, and I'm willing to go to my grave saying that what some violent churches have portrayed is nothing godly.

If you happen to be a part of LGBT, on behalf of hopefully Christians across the world, I wish to start by saying I'm sorry about how some churches have treated you. Please don't let some bad people let you believe that all Christians are the same. I find it horrible that some people in my religion are going out of their way to hold up posters labelled "God Hates Fags", directed at the two men holding hands walking down the street. My God does not hate. It's just not what He does. 

I attend a Christian school, and I won't hide the fact that yes, as Christians, we are taught, and so we believe, that homosexuality, bisexuality is wrong. Against the Bible. Against what God initially wanted in the humankind He created. I'm not saying I disagree. I am a Christian, and my job is to stand up for the Bible, and for Christ.

You're right. I can't stand against what the Bible says and I won't. I have to say I disagree on homosexuality or bisexuality. However, I have nothing against other people who happen to be homosexual, bisexual, or transgender. Here's what I believe: I must live the way that Jesus lived. I must do what Jesus would have done. That is what Christianity is about. And the thing that people forget is that Jesus hates the sin, but loves the sinner. 

If I happen to have friends in the future who are part of LGBT, then so be it. If the girl in my campus wants to talk to me about her girlfriend, she should feel free. If a boy next door tells me he has a boyfriend, then that's okay. If I share a class with a girl who then tells me she wasn't born a female, then I'll just nod and listen to her story.

Gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender people are still people. I will treat my fellow humans as humans, and that's it. I will do it because Jesus has never taught us to hate. Jesus once had dinner in the house of a corrupt, non-believing tax-collector. Jesus helped prostitutes. He heals and washes the feet of sinners with his own bare hands. Would it make sense for me then to roll my eyes and gag at the sight of a gay couple? This is why I don't plan on pointing fingers and labelling homosexuals as "sinners". We are all sinners. Always have been, always will be. It's just that we sin differently, right? The way I see it, the people of the LGBT community simply don't have the same beliefs as I do. They don't agree to my faith, and so I know that it's not my place to try and pull them into something I believe in personally.

As an example, just because Muslims aren't supposed to eat pork, doesn't mean they should go out into the world and stop everyone from eating pork. Or do you find Muslim women forcefully putting on hijabs on other women, even ones with different religions? Screaming and insisting that hair must be covered? I highly doubt it. Because that's not what religion is. It's supposed to be sacred, and personal. I believe it's more important to carry the word of God throughout my character and actions, and through the love I show to others. They must know who Jesus is by looking at how I live. They must witness His love by looking at how I can humbly respect others, including those who happen to be non-believers. That's what I call a life goal.

I have learned that avoiding or looking down on people just because of their sexuality or gender preferences will get me absolutely nowhere. And frankly, that sounds pretty evil. So whoever you are, whatever you believe in, whatever your sexuality happens to be, I am okay with that. Yes, I am wearing a cross around my necklace, but my God is a God of love and acceptance.

Please feel free to leave a comment below with your opinions, or questions even. I'll try to answer as reasonably as I can! Thank you for reading all the way to this sentence. I hope this post has encouraged you to understand a little deeper, and I do hope you find at least a bit of goodness in what I've written.