Sainsbury's

There's something very different about seeing a place in pictures and going to that place in person. The first time I went to Culcheth, England I wanted to see everything, memorize everything. I paid attention to street names and businesses. I looked at maps and absorbed all I could. ... I did this because one of my best friends was moving there. I wanted to have a picture in my mind when she told me about her day.

"We went to the Cherry Tree for Sunday roast." - I can picture it in my mind. I know where the bathrooms are and what the paintings look like.

"I met a lady in the check out lane at the grocery store." I know where the cereal aisle is and where to find the cheese section. I remember the smell of it.

I can navigate in my mind's eye from the pitch to where the new Quench Cafe sits. I know where my friend Sue's guest toilet is located in her house and what her banafe pie tastes like and where she keeps the plates in her kitchen.

All of these things make England a real place to me. When I think of England, I have memories, not knowledge.

So many preach brokenness and for a long long time I really, truly thought I understood them. I KNEW that I was broken and couldn't save myself. I KNEW I needed a savior. I KNEW God was ever present. I'd seen the photos, read the verses. I knew and trusted to the best of my ability.

Then God showed me himself and all my gift packages and strengths and strategies melted before him. My heart trembled out of terror at my inability. I couldn't pray, only plead. I couldn't minister, only show up. I looked at all my hard work and realized it didn't matter a bit; it wasn't sufficient. It couldn't save anyone, myself included. I felt desperation. A desperation for God, for his presence, for his breath on my face.

When I hear someone speak of brokenness now, it is a memory, a present reality that I plead never goes away.

My complete lack of ability takes me so close to the very throne of God that I can feel his whisper in my ear. He doesn't need my strengths, his are better and stronger and infinite. He doesn't need me to plant a church; it's his bride and he pursues her with a zeal I cannot imagine. He doesn't expect me to be him. He is enough in himself.

I pray that when I feel pretty good about myself, when I think I have something great to offer that is not HIM, I pray that I will remember the smell, the images, the street signs of that blessed brokenness when I had nothing but him and he was more than enough.

"But my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in your weakness."