Who’s the Broken Arrow?
I began writing on Broken Arrow with the sole notion that the “broken arrow” in question referred to our dear, sweet son that we lost. Let me backtrack and explain.
In the sermon series, titled Arrows, by Levi Lusko, he spoke of how the Bible refers to children as “arrows” and fathers that have their “quiver full”. This picture (drawn from Psalm 127:4–5) is rich and beautiful.
I always viewed Quinlan as our broken, little arrow. All that I experienced of his body outside the womb was broken and lifeless. Hollow. Empty. There is such a painful loneliness when you lose someone you love. All the more painful when you didn’t even get to know them.
But I really missed the whole point in Levi’s message. He spoke of his daughter, Lenya Lion, who died suddenly and tragically at the age of 5 in 2012, and how she had hit the target. She made it to the desired destination: Jesus Christ.
So did our little man, Quinlan Godfrey. But in all the pain and mess of death I forget that. I forget that he is actually more whole and more perfect than any of us. He isn’t the broken arrow.
I am.
I am the one who feels surrounded in darkness. I am the one slogging through, day after day, trying to fight to breathe and live and keep faith in Christ. I am the one filled at times with uncontrollable, pounding pain that won’t relent. I am the one who feels like my life got shattered.
As I’ve walked through this, I’ve realized that it is perfectly normal to feel this way. Jesus wept when he lost a friend. He was tortured with physical and emotional pain beyond what any of us can even grasp or realize. He asked for the cup to pass from Him.
And yet…
He stayed. He didn’t run. He didn’t cower from the threat of pain and Hell. He didn’t relent. He stayed. This astounds me.
My reaction to pain is to want to run and hide. His reaction was to stay and abide. He didn’t give up. He didn’t stop. He never stopped loving, and he never stopped pouring Himself out for us. He did this all in the face of something darker than we will ever face. He didn’t just face death. He experienced death, and the wrath of Hell, for us.
It’s OK to be broken. In fact, I think that truly walking in faith requires brokenness. It requires us to admit that we don’t have it together and that we desperately need God.
Even though we feel abandoned and deserted and alone and God-forsaken… we must stay in that tension. We can’t abandon our post and try to find satisfaction from any other place.
Jesus stayed.
By His grace—God help us—so will we.
