Sometimes we’re broken, and we don’t even know it.

A few years ago, my Ella was jumping like a rocket on the springy-black-death-trap we like to call a trampoline. Momma always said they were dangerous. She was right. Ella slipped, hurting her foot.

For five days, this Mom of the Year told her kid to “suck-it-up” and “stop being so dramatic” and “yes, you’re going to ballet.”

At some point I realized I might be wrong.

A podiatrist and a few x-rays spelled out my slight error in judgment. I’d forced my daughter to walk on a broken foot for five days. The fractures were hidden from view, but they were there—stabbing fire in to the fragile bones of my girl. Her pain tolerance and my blind-eye missed the truth.

The truth is, sometimes we’re broken, and we don’t even know it. Sometimes we’re broken, and walking one more step is too hard to bear. Or the world ignores our pain. Or we wonder if we can make it just one. more. day. Or we don’t believe our splintered souls can be pieced back together.

In my darkest days of clinical depression, the blackness closed in around me. I struggled for breath and staggered along, fragmented pieces of myself crumbling off along the way.


I realized during those shadowed days, slivers of Light would seep through the fractures left in my soul. I realized only when I’m cracked and raw can Jesus filter into the dark places. I realized I must face brokenness to know I need a Savior. I realized when I’m fragmented I understand how Christ can heal.

This is why.

This is why Jesus allowed himself to be wrecked upon splintered wood, beaten to a bloody mess. Shattered. Pierced. Murdered. For you. For me. For our own brokenness.

Christ died because His ripped and mangled body can make us whole.

This is why His broken form that can heal our cracked souls was pulled from the cross then placed in an empty, black tomb.

This is why Christ was crucified.

But God. Oh, the sweet sound of those two words.

But God raised. Oh, the miracle and hope we can breathe into our lungs.

But God raised Him from the dead. Oh, the joy! The glory-filled joy!

“…they took Him down from the tree and put Him in a tomb. But God raised Him from the dead.” Acts 13:29b-30

The stone was rolled away—the seal destroyed. Smashed so the world could have the Light.

We’re all broken. A broken mess of humanity. Our cracked souls are desperate for the empty tomb of the risen Lord. Jesus Christ, the Light of the world, filled that empty tomb, so that when we peer through the cracks of our souls we see His light filling our void. Filling and bringing hope.

Hope. Because hope is the power of the empty tomb. Jesus Christ came to embrace our fragmented souls with His extravagant grace. This is Easter—A risen Savior’s promise to redeem His broken children.

And oh, how my brokenness craves what Easter brings.

Heather Iseminger, her husband Michael, and their two children live in Florida. Heather teaches high school language and composition. You can read more from Heather at her blog,


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