“Gather the pieces of my soul,” she said.

“I have to go home and gather the pieces of my soul, ” she said while sitting next to the man she was having an affair with.  Her soul is in pieces.

I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t stop praying for her. I can’t stop wondering what led to her broken heart and her soul shattering.  She’s lost, and I know that Jesus wants to find her. To talk with her. To tell her that he loves her and is not ashamed of her.

She’s a nurse. Someone who knows what it is to tend to the needs of others, at least medically. But despite all she knows, her soul is in pieces. And the steady diet of alcohol is not bringing her soul back together; it’s taking her down an even darker, desperate, more demanding path. She’s hurting. She’s broken. She’s longing for freedom. Desperate for hope.

What she has yet to discover is that we cannot mend our broken souls. We cannot heal ourselves with the bottle or with another pill that numbs us to our pain. Her soul is in pieces, evident by the destructive choices she’s making.

I’m burdened today for the beautiful young woman whose self proclamation was that her soul was shattered.  She needs to find herself in the care of the one who can carry her pain, shepherd her soul, and give her a drink of the living water.

Oh God today, this very moment, we hold in your tender presence all those who feel like their souls are in pieces and need gathering, those who are bruised reeds. Please meet them in their desperate search for an unfractured soul. Amen.

 

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