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You may feel broken... but you are still so beneficial

Jen Mininger • Jun 01, 2020
Question... Have you ever felt a quiet excitement about doing something, but then you stopped yourself from pursuing it because you felt you weren't  a strong enough person for it? Or, maybe you thought you could possibly do it someday, but you just needed to “get your act together” first.

Worse yet… you've compared yourself to someone else that you thought had much better qualities than you, and it would be better if you just got out of their talented way.

How about, have you ever looked at someone else who did something valuable and you thought, “well, that person probably has it “all together”. You assume that he or she is amazing, talented, and strong… but not you, you’re not anything special. He or she doesn’t struggle like you do.  Your thoughts have continued to spiral and you are left feeling less than, and inadequate.

Friends, I have thought all of that stuff too. Let me tell ya.. I am such a work in progress kinda girl.  

I do not have it “all together”. I have so much to continue to learn. I struggle with the same negative thought patterns over and over again, I hold back, play small, make excuses, and … 
AND…

I am a “work in progress”.  Like, I am not where I used to be, and I can be thankful for that, right?  

Acknowledging progress feels good.  Its an opportunity to be honest and to not get stuck in discouragement. I believe it is a good practice to look back and remember where we were and the FACT that God has helped us move forward and make some progress! Remembering how He helped us gives us hope that He will be faithful to continue to help us through our next “impossible” task.




A "work in progress”.  

I don’t know if today’s discussion is gonna be more about the “progress” part of that little statement, or the “work” part of it. Aaand.... Suddenly, I can hear my Daddy say, “you’re a piece of work”!  

“Work”.. 

I've got a lot of work yet to be done on me. Like, I am still so much the broken one, and I know it! Yet, there I was leading a retreat for other broken women.  

How can the broken lead the broken anyway?  

It doesn’t seem humanly possible.  

Doubts of my adequacy and competency rose up inside of me while preparing for the Restorable Retreat… and even while I was at the retreat. In fact, I remember texting Korey shortly before all the women arrived. I just quickly told him that I would like prayer because I suddenly felt like the “little girl” in the building. I felt ill-equipped to lead these precious women when I was, in fact, the one who needed the restorable content the most.  

I named my ill-equipped feeling. I reached out for prayer. I prayed myself. And I was thankful that God helped me to let go of the doubt that would for sure hinder me from loving these women. Those doubts were just a tool that the enemy wanted to use to get me to NOT do this great work.  

So, after this quick acknowledgement of my wrestling thoughts, I was able to walk down those two flights of stairs in the old stone bed and breakfast.  My insecurities sort of melted away for a time as I began to as I began hugging and greeting other broken and doubting women.

We lingered around for a bit as the women arrived that Friday evening.  We snacked from the beautiful spread on the long farmhouse table, got ourselves a little bit more settled in for our weekend away together. 

Our first session began as we had hoped and planned that it would. It went the way that God led us to lead it… and I was thankful… again. We spent quiet time together naming our hard thing. Many of us used our restorable journals to safely and quietly describe our broken spot. During this sort of somber evening, we took time to look at the thing that keeps defeating us and knocking us over time and time again.  The "thing" that likely brought us to the Restorable Retreat.  

We then ended that Friday evening with my friend, Terry Boch, singing beautifully from her own broken heart….(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zA4pj3TiJLc) the night ended quietly for most of us as we laid our tired heads down on clean beds.



As we woke up the next morning and meandered our way down the stairs, we were greeted with a delicious breakfast made by my dear childhood friend, Julie. 

Together, we gathered around the long farmhouse table in wooden chairs of all different styles, painted white. We prayed together and filled our plates with a variety of delicious breakfast foods.  

As we lingered there, we eventually began introductions.  With basic instructions, we shared our names, what state we call “home”, one random and sort of light fact about ourselves, and then we shared something hard that we were currently facing. This hard thing could be anything on the scale of 1 to 10 of hard things since this was a safe place with no pressure to divulge all of our hearts. We needed this space so we could feel safely heard and known regarding our deepest heart’s ache, or our common daily struggles. This was a place for no judgement over what was shared.

The watching of a clock was not on our radar as we lingered over our cooling cups of coffee, muffin crumbs and last slices of quiche.  This time was so sweet, so good. I loved this breakfast! I loved my time hearing from such a diverse group of women who were all united in the fact that we are truly a piece of work… in progress.   

I honestly think we could have sat there for many more hours, sharing our hearts and nibbling on good food...  but we had a full day ahead of us and a morning field trip to take!  

We all left the table with full bellies and hearts of gratitude. It was a warm, cozy and comfortable environment, but now we needed to bundle up because it was COLD outside.


As we all dispersed to grab our boots and coats, I suddenly was invaded with thoughts of insecurity... again. This time, in part, because of the chilly weather. Were the women going to hate going outside after sitting at a cozy breakfast together? Was the cold damp air going to make something that was intended to be meaningful into a bad and rushed experience?  I felt nervous.

Insecurity could have multiplied here and became the loudest voice inside of me, but thankfully I was able to dismiss it and REMEMBER the One who had led me to this very moment. After all, He was the One who allowed the weather to be what it was. So, I put on an extra layer of pants, slipped on my cute new finger-less gloves for camera shooting (thank you Ginny!!), and we piled, all 12 of us into two vehicles like a bunch of curious, new/old friends ready to adventure and explore together. Terry drove one vehicle, while I drove the other.

Everyone seemed content, and it seemed to me that all were at peace with this coming unknown.  

Personally, I felt an unsettled stirring inside of me, a growing awareness that time was going to be very tight and I had to lead them all into a new and different environment.  

My desire for this junkyard visit was to give each woman space to identify a vehicle that resembled their hard thing. My hope was that their tangible visual, and whole experience there might help them further name their hard thing and feel heard. I wanted to take pictures of them among the broken so that they could have further reflection later on to see what God wanted them to see and know.

As I was driving, I thought that it would be great if even just one or two women would find something that resonated with their heart and that I could capture it for them. Then, I thought that we might use what little time we had left to discuss some of my observations from walking among the broken things and imagining what the “Mechanic” would think of each of these broken ones.

I had great big desires for each of these women, but my insecurity or possibly, my lack of faith left me with low expectations.  I had all my thoughts and ideas, but truthfully, I just knew that my plans had to be held very loosely, because the reality was, was that I actually had NO IDEA how this was going to go. I just hoped that it would be a helpful experience for at least some of the women.

I remember parking my van as we pulled up and saying something sarcastic about how weird it was that I drove a bunch of women to a junkyard! But time was ticking and God brought us this far with a gift for us to discover, I just had to lay my insecurities down and see what HE might have for us there.

So I got out of my van and meandered my way through a skinny dirt isle between junked vehicles and stepped into the tiny building that was considered the “junkyard office”. Inside this office was a bunch of stuff that seemed to be scattered EVERYWHERE and a desk covered with old dirtied keys and paperwork. Behind the desk was a sweet old woman whose head was covered in white fluffy hair.  I reminded her of our previous phone call and of the 12 women coming for the purpose of taking pictures. I was relieved that she remembered me.  

As I began writing out a check for our visit, I heard a song playing on an old radio in the background. The old familiar words were sung, “This is my story, this is my song. Praising my Savior all the day long...”. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDeiy9-t2GE  

 I turned to that gentle woman and said, “oh my, this is such a GOOD song”. She sweetly smiled and said, “yes it is”.

It was an old familiar hymn owning a story with joy because they had hope for their future. A story declaring assurance that Jesus was theirs. This song was not written declaring their struggles as their story, but declaring that HOPE was their story. A song of perspective… a song of hope.

This song was God reminding me that He was right there with me… with us. Bringing 12 women to a junkyard was not my idea, and it was not silly. I could have assurance that this little trip was in fact God’s idea and I could trust Him. I didn’t have to be awkward, apologetic or sarcastic, I just had to trust that God was bringing us here, together.   

Now, with tears in my eyes and a deep awareness of His kind presence, I stepped out of that office with excitement, confidence and expectation. I gathered the women and together we walked into that junkyard with our storied pasts. We walked with God’s hopeful story of the future that He has planned for us.

We meandered through tight dirt alleys between piled up old pieces of abandoned junked cars and arrived at the back yard where we would receive time to see if God had something personal to show us.

I assured the women that there was no pressure, and they didn’t need to awkwardly force anything. They could just receive this time as a gift to be open and observe what God might want to show them. And, IF God showed them a broken down car that resembled the broken thing in their heart, they could just let me know and I would gladly take pictures of them with their visual.

Each of the ladies began to walk away to meander around and take in the sights. Within a few very short moments, a dear friend came hustling over to me. Her eyes were a little extra moist and there was a giddy smile on her face as she began to lead me to her broken thing. While climbing over other broken things to get there, she told me that she “didn’t come for this”. She didn’t plan on looking or finding something to visualize her broken thing. BUT.. there it was! It was like God placed this old red truck with a heart carved out of the door right there, FOR HER. I simply asked her, “why THIS truck?”. As she answered tears continued to pile up in her eyes, and her smile looked like something of a child on Christmas morning. I snapped several pictures of her authentic heart and this gift from God. I then came close to her to hug her because I love her and I was drawn to her authentic moment that God was stirring in her. I agreed with her that God gave her this gift for her recovering heart, and then I told her that I was going to walk away from her to leave her with our kind Gift Giver…. Jesus. I turned around and walked away from my tear-filled, smiling face friend, and left her with the One who loves her so well.
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I began to find my way back to the aisle of cars, only to catch up with another woman who “found her car”.

As she ran her hands over that old solid exterior, she shared with me the significance of how this car was so obviously helping her see and name her brokenness.  This visual was also being used to offer her a fresh perspective of the truth of her reality. What seemed miraculous, to me, was that God was giving her a deeper understanding of reality from her difficult childhood memories... all from a heap of junk, in a junk yard.

 She felt heartache looking at this car, and she felt hope… I took her picture, prayed with her, hugged her, and then left her to be with the One who knows her painful past and her hopeful story.


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I turned around and walked a little further and found another sweet friend who shared with me her reluctance to even look for a car to identify with. 

... but then, there it was...

Just as cute and sweet as she was… and... just as run down and hurting as her heart was feeling.

Tears began to come as she shared how this car felt surprisingly personal and validating to her. I took her picture, prayed with her, hugged my dear hurting friend and then left her to be with the One who knows her tired soul.


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As I walked away I found more women ready and waiting to show me their cars and trucks and share why they felt so personally drawn to their broken visual. I heard powerful feeling words and listened to validating moments. I saw tears fall as authentic eyes looked at me, hoping for restoration. I captured their hearts, I captured them with their broken thing. I hugged each of them, and then I turned and walked away to leave them with the God of all comfort, and to go see if more hearts needed to be heard and captured.

Friends, this happened eleven times! Not just one or two of us experienced something personally valuable here in this 20 acre junkyard, but all twelve of us were given a visual to show us the condition of our heart and story. We were offered, by God, an opportunity to feel heard and understood.

It was twelve moments for twelve women to feel personally seen, loved and validated in our broken places.

This. Was. Crazy… to me. Supernatural. What I thought might be embarrassing and weird to share with people that I took myself to a junkyard back in February, 2017… turned out to be a powerful form of therapy for more than just me. This was NOT my idea.. This was God’s personal hug to each of us.

Oh, how I would love to take you along with me to hear and see each woman’s heart, story and broken down vehicle. I would love to tell you observations that we made. 


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But, maybe you are curious about the broken thing that I chose. Did I even choose one? Did I get to participate in this supernatural activity? Well, here is my story from this meaningful morning.  

Shortly after we arrived, my friend Meagan told me that she would be happy to make sure that pictures were taken of me too. She said that if I find a broken down car or truck that I identified with, then I could let her know. I would be able to cry with Meagan if I needed and she could capture my heart with my own personal visual. I said “yes” to her offer, then went on my way to capture other women’s hearts.

In my meandering around and taking pictures of broken cars and broken women, I did see a truck that I truly identified with. I took a picture of that truck as it did captivate me. I wanted to remember it, and consider what God was showing me from that sight of brokenness. But I didn’t have Meagan take a picture of me with it. I just didn’t feel drawn to it at that moment. 

Instead of getting pictures with that truck, I chose to live the lesson that the visual was showing me.

You see, this truck was an old Ford flatbed hauler. It was a car carrier, I suppose. On the back of it was an old car, or maybe two cars smashed on top of each other. Then on top of those wrecked cars was a bed to an old pick up truck and who knows what else was dumped on that hauler.

Looking at this heap of a mess, I wondered, did this truck carry more than it was intended to carry? The creator of that truck probably had a weight limit. How many times did it exceed its weight capacity? How often did it attempt to manage more than it was ever created for? I looked at the cab of that truck and saw that it had come to its end. It hauled, and helped and carried until it could go no more. Now, the hauler lies stuck in a junkyard. Not able to thrive and be used for its original purpose. It was stuck between and under other broken things. It was now useless.    

When I first saw the old burned out thing, I knew my brokenness resonated with it. I have a tendency to carry more than what was intended for me to carry. It’s not good. It doesn’t “help” anyone in the end when I am sitting slumped over, grouchy, tired, resistant, defeated… or even, resentful. Sure, some of it is the choices that others have made, but some of it is my own choice to carry more than I was created for.  

While it is true that we are to “bear one another’s burdens”, we were not meant to carry them like only God can. When someone else's “burden” comes to me, I can care for it and even carry it as God compels me to… but if I am choosing to carry more than He compels me to, then I am running a high chance that I will end up breaking down and in the end unable to help anyone.  Unable to even thrive, myself. As I run myself ragged, I end up offering less quality care, less sincerity, less help…. And I begin to feel less alive.  

I think I do this for lots of reasons.  At times, my motivation is truly because I care.  Being compassionate and empathetic is a deep part of my true self.  I really love and care for others.  It is a strength of mine... it can also have a back sided weakness.  Sometimes I think I over carry out of obligation. I feel like I “have” to.  By some human standards, I feel like I am supposed to, and if I don't then maybe I will be a letting someone down.  Sometimes it is because I think I will be liked better. Other times, I think I over-carry because it makes me feel good, like my carrying makes me more valuable of a person. Then, quite possibly I do more than what is intended for me because I am not trusting God to do what truly only He can do.  Do I actually think He can’t do it without me, or something ridiculous like that?!

When I carry more than what I am called to carry I run the risk of interfering with an opportunity for a loved one to lean on the One who knows best. I could even be creating a relationship that becomes unhealthfully dependent on "needing" me to be their helper and carry-er.  That is not good.  That may actually be robbing them of discovering a strength that they already have from God… a strength that is so much better than I could offer. 


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But on this day.. In this mess of a junkyard.  I was living free to love and carry other’s burdens, but in a fresh new way.  In a way that was still sincerely interested, loving and caring, BUT without feeling like I needed to be the one to rescue them in their moment.  After all, it would be silly to step in and rescue them when God was obviously already part of their moment and loving them so well right then and there.  Would I possibly be interfering with their sweet moment with God?


So, when that first woman had tears and a sincere story next to her gift of a truck, I, of course, wanted to stay with her.  I would have loved to linger with her, hug her, and listen to her.  Possibly, for hours.  I wanted to ask her questions and give her space to let it all out.  None of those desires of mine were bad, in fact, I believe that it is a good friend who takes time to do that… BUT… THAT was NOT what God was calling me to do at that moment, on this particular day.  Rather, He was like, “I got this Jen, I know her story and her heart.  I brought her here, I gave her this visual… and I will remain with her while you walk away and go do something else for Me”. 


Friends, walking away was NOT natural for me, BUT I was able to supernaturally TRUST the “Mechanic”, the One who ultimately knows how to restore.  I am a tool that He chooses to use to partner with Him… and this time, He chose to use my tool in another way.  This trust was so free-ing for me.  It was new, different and fresh.. I didn’t feel run-down carrying more than I was intended to in that moment.  I felt lite, purposeful, dependent on the Mechanic, and grateful to GET to be PART of His restoring “project”.


I was clearly being used by God to help women in their broken state.  I was able to listen, to hold, to creatively capture their hearts and their stories.  And possibly, most important, I was able to leave them in the hands that could actually carry hold them so well.   I was even able to get to all eleven women.




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It was really cool to get to be used by God in such a powerful experience!  BUT, truth be told, friends… I am still so broken.  I too am mangled, defeated, discouraged, and tired.  I am filled with confusion, false beliefs, fear and anxious thoughts. 


HOW is it that I can be used to lead eleven other women?  How can this broken one that can’t “carry” anymore be a tool used to bring restoration to other's aching souls?


Honestly, it is such a mystery.  A mystery that I think Paul the apostle was talking about when he shared that he too struggled with a weakness that God was not going to take away.  He acknowledged his weakness before God.  He was broken, humble and honest with God... and THAT, I believe, is where he found his strength and ability to be used while being so weak.  When we are honest about our inadequacies and we humble ourselves with God,  we are acknowledging our need for Him, and turning towards depending on Him rather than trying to muster up something within ourselves that is fractured and will not be reliable.  God’s response to Paul in 2 Corinthians 12:9  is “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness”. 


So, there I was,  in all of my brokenness.  So very aware of my brokenness and so very aware of my need for God to be my strength.  I was being used for something bigger than I could know or understand, something way more than I could possibly carry.



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So, when I got a chance, I told Meagan that I didn’t want a picture with my broken down car carrier that day.  I wanted a picture of ME, in all my brokenness and in all His glory.  I wanted a picture of broken me in a broken environment loving and serving other broken ones.  A picture of broken me feeling fully alive… not run down and defeated… but thriving, even in my broken state, even in a broken environment...even with other broken ones! 






I am not on the other side of the restoration process… I am actually in the THICK of being restored, and I find it so amazing, so creative and so life giving that one of the ways that God chooses to restore me is by teaching me how to love others in a healthier way.  He is showing me that I am valuable and helpful, but I am NOT called to carry others in my own strength. 




I was NO different than all these other women.  I wasn't leading this retreat because I "had it all together". 


My broken down truck was like theirs.  It was in rough shape and it told a difficult and personal story.  Our visuals were not on the other side of restoration process.


I think that one of the gifts that God wanted me to receive from this Restorable Retreat was that He can use me even while still in my broken state.  He can even use me while living in the proverbial junkyard, while being broken and surrounded by other broken ones, broken things.  But, He wants to use me in a way that I am intended to be used.  I am a tool, not the “Mechanic”.  I am dependent on the “Mechanic’s” strength and guidance.  I have permission to be one of the broken among other broken ones, and let God be God.  What a gift that I don’t need to be fully restored to be enriched by being used. 



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This junkyard trip with eleven beautifully broken women was a precious experience.   


Together, we acknowledged our hard and broken places, and we chose to want hope, to want restoration where we feel despair. 


We were naming our hard things and giving them over to the One who knows the beauty that can come from our ashes.  Because of this, we were already not where we used to be, and together we could feel that we are a hopeful “work in progress”.


I hope that you too can honestly acknowledge your brokenness, and also look back and see that you are not where you used to be.  God is loving you through this.  He is with you, helping you, maturing you, and strengthening you.  You are a “work in progress” because of His love and His faithfulness to you. 


I hope that you feel encouraged that you don’t have to have it all together to be used for something bigger and greater than yourself.  God can do something so creative and way outside of your wildest imagination to bring hope and healing to others, even by using broken you.  We are a useful tool for the “Mechanic’s” restoration work!  He is so merciful and I know this is absolutely true… therefore I have hope.



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 “I remember my affliction and my wandering…

yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. 

They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” 

Lamentations 3:19 - 22


If you just felt drawn into our experience here while reading about it...


If you possibly related to some of the pictures or pieces of stories felt....


If you want to continue to experience the retreat with us...


Then you can listen to the podcast that we heard together just after our little junk yard trip.


I pre-recorded a podcast for us retreat ladies to listen to while we drove back to the bed and breakfast.  It is was a quiet and reflective drive as we all sat listening to words that resonated with our hearts. 


  https://hopelayerpodcast.libsyn.com/what-if-your-hard-thing-doesnt-change ,


or if you prefer to head to your preferred podcast listener, then listen to Episode #9, "What if your hard thing doesn't change".

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