What a Broken Crucifix Teaches Me

We meet in the old convent basement. 
The couches don't match the faded pillows and the carpet is worn. It sometimes floods when a heavy rain comes and that musty basement smell hangs around.
This is where we meet on Thursday evenings for a divorce support group from now through January.
On the wall across from where I sit hangs a broken crucifix, literally.
I cannot help but find it to be rich of meaning, especially as I gather with a handful of other women going through a divorce.
One of Jesus' arms is busted clean off, while the remaining arm hangs on the cross.
It takes me back to a tearful conversation I had with my parents a few years ago.

I was still living with my parents as I waited for my divorce to be finalized.
It was one of those no-good, very awful days. I was a mess and hot tears ran down my face.
I wept over the loss of my marriage, wailing to my parents wondering in fear what would become of the new reality of my life: Would I always be alone? How could I trust men again? How would I make it financially on my own?
I was overwhelmed and afraid.
I distinctly remember crying and saying to my Dad (a deacon), "Dad where is Jesus in all of this? I don't feel His presence. The pain of it all feels like I am being nailed to a cross. Where is He?!"
My Dad, a very quiet man of faith, looked at me with tears in his eyes, his voice shaking said: "Well He's getting nailed to the cross next to you."
It made me stop and think.
I recall that conversation now as I gaze on a broken crucifix, helping to lead other women through their own pain and grief.
That broken crucifix is a reminder of the pain I was in at one time of my life, and how my Dad helped remind me to believe that Jesus was in it with me.
One the the things I most deeply love about Christianity is the humanity and divinity of Jesus Christ all rolled into one. Jesus knew the human experience in all things except sin.
He knew what it was to be afraid, anxious, angry, confused, joyful, depressed, and even silly. Jesus of all people knows what it is to suffer. And looking at that little broken crucifix is a gentle reminder of that to me. My God understands and can relate to the pain in my life, in your life.

I easily forget about God's presence or faithfulness when life is all hunky dory. 
All too often, I take for granted the people or blessings in my life. I forget to thank God for all that I have, all that He has done in my life and how He has restored me.


Every Thursday evening, I glance up at the wall and look at Jesus. I smile, grateful for the reminder of His nearness in the most messy and painful experiences of our lives.
The next time your gaze lands on a crucifix in your home or church, linger there a little bit longer. Savor the image.
And remind yourself (especially when you don't believe it), that the presence of the living God is nearer than you realize.