The broken heart of an abundant life

Every connection we make with another person is unique because every single human being is unique. That means every relationship we have creates opportunities for unique joys, celebrations, triumphs, connections, experiences, inside jokes, etc. But it also means that every relationship risks unique ways of causing hurt, shame, disappointment, and betrayal. It turns out that the heart can break in an infinite number of ways. Each heartbreak is as unique as the relationship and person associated with that heartbreak.

Live enough life and your heart will be quite battered, it turns out. People will let you down. It’s apparently part of the human condition. It’s as certain as death and taxes. And sometimes the people closest to you will choose cowardice over courage. This probably isn’t news to most of us. Like I said, it seems to be a part of the human condition, a fact of life. But what do you do after you’ve been let down, after your heart has been shattered into a million pieces?

I don’t have a definitive answer, but I can tell you what I’ve learned. I’ve learned that we need to accept the reality of the situation for what it is. We need to remind ourselves that this sometimes happens. And that this sort of thing will most likely happen again. Probably never exactly like this specific heartbreak, but our heart will be broken again someday in the future. People will let us down.

Everything is a part of everything which makes us who we are today. Heartbreak or betrayal doesn’t mean that what you had or experienced wasn’t real. It doesn’t mean the time and energy invested into someone else was wasted. Nothing is truly ever wasted. This is all a part of the process of how our hearts grow. I’m convinced it’s what it means to live an abundant life. It’s how I make sense of the beatitudes.

We think about our hearts “growing” when we think about making friends, when we think about getting married or having children or grandchildren. And yes, our hearts generally grow in these scenarios. But because we are dealing with humans, and part of life seems to be that people will let us down, it also means that our hearts will inevitably break.

But I would say that our hearts grow most after they’ve been broken. The recovery process expands the heart because of the room created by the brokenness. It enables its expansive growth. It’s how capacious hearts are forged.

A snake sheds its skin because its body continues to grow. Prior to shedding, a snake’s skin begins to turn bluish, its eyes opaque. A larger skin is made, and the old layer is rubbed off against something abrasive and then discarded. This process takes anywhere from a few days to a few weeks, depending on the size, body condition, and environment.

Snakes also shed their skin to remove harmful parasites. If a snake remains in its skin, it remains susceptible to parasites, which can lead to disease. Remaining in the skin can also restrict blood flow and cause damage to the snake’s body, and can even lead to death.

Our broken hearts sometimes need to shed their outer layer to continue to be healthy. We too can feel blue, our eyes glassed over due to sadness or anger or disbelief. But if we sit in it, bitterness and resentment can settle in like a parasite, sucking away our joy and love and ultimately destroy us. It can take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks (to a few years, grief is like that), but we learn to move through it and allow our hearts to grow.

How is this all possible? I am unsure of the mechanics. I’m already fairly certain that comparing our hearts to a snake shedding its skin is an odd way to view recovering from heartbreak. But from experience, the verses of the Bible that speak of God being close to the brokenhearted and the crushed in spirit ring true. God is described as the one who heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds alongside being the one who determines the number of stars in the universe and calls them all by name. I’m unsure of how complex it must be to bind up our broken hearts, but it seems more impressive to me than the naming of some 200 billion trillion stars.

And that is how I make sense of the blessings of the beatitudes. That it’s those who are poor in spirit and those who mourn that are the ones considered blessed. This is the reality of the abundant life. Let us come in and go out and find pasture.

Published by Andrew

a ragamuffin dad planting some sequoias

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