Broken Reflection is Made Whole Through the Mirror of God’s Eyes

My reflection remains the same (if you don’t count the sprouting fleshy imperfections and wrinkles that have unwelcomingly unpacked their bags under my eyes.) But the soul within my fascia facade is unrecognizable. I have never known myself the way I know myself now. I have never truly beckoned my reflection in the mirror to show me the truth. Instead I suffocated its cry for help, chained its reaching hands, and muted its blatant pleads. I became my own master and like Hitler, embarked on a selfish vanity crusade, slaughtering my humble heart on an ignorant battlefield of bliss. I was killing myself inside without knowing.

Today as I peer into a mirror, I am confronted by a broken soul that stares back at me, desperately gasping for life. I realize that I have no power to nurture it back to health. I have no strength to heal the self-inflicted wounds that pulsate in pain. I can not look within myself, my surroundings, or others to fill my decrepit desires and gaping voids.

Now what I confess, you may never believe, but it is true. All the compounded years of abuse, doubt, guilt, and fear that have surfaced in the gouged and scarred secrets within, are slowly healing under God’s warm touch. Each day as I face the problems I thought I had drowned, I find myself swimming with them to an island of redemtion; while the identity I so carelessly crafted for myself sinks in death.

I thank God for saving my heart from complete self-destruction. I thank God for lifting my soul from the icy floor and renewing me in a blanket of love. I thank God for the forgiveness he has relentlessly shown me, and for the forgiveness I have found within my own confines.

I will welcome all parts of my reflection: broken, battered and salvaged to wade in God’s ocean of light, for I am not defined by my problems and pains, rather I am renewed and washed clean by the perfection of Christ.