By Doug Bursch
Who broke you? Who crushed your worth and made you the man I see today?
It’s always great with you, always victorious, always going well and better than before.
You’ve given every one in this room advice. Yet none can be taken, nothing can be learned by you.
Who harmed you? Who crushed the little boy, took away his worth? Who made you feel so worthless and useless and wretched? Who called your precious personality rebellion and sin? Who made you so afraid?
Now we sit here again, with you saving the world, rescuing the world, correcting the world, while it can’t possibly sit well with you. Deep within those interior walls, this life cannot set well with you?
I wish I could go way back, before you received the title, the role, and the ministerial garb. I wish I could go way back and find that room where you were harmed. I’d look that bastard in the eyes and tell him to repent. “Stop harming your little boy! You are turning him into a prison.”
A prison he cannot escape, a prison where he is warden, guard, and captive. Who broke you? Most likely someone very broken, someone very much like you.