Letting Go of What’s Broken

Once upon a time, before anything big, bad, or very confusing had happened in my life, I was a college student walking along a beach with some friends. There was nothing particularly special about the day, or the beach, or the season of life. But in the middle of it God gave me an object lesson that has been one of the most enduring and impactful I’ve learned.

There were five of us meandering down the beach, just chatting and enjoying the sound of the surf and the feel of the sand under our feet. As we walked, we noticed hundreds of sand dollars scattered widely. Since I had always liked sand dollars, I thought I’d keep one as a nice memento of the day. I bent down to pick one up but noticed it was broken. I looked at the next one and it also had a piece missing. And the next, and the next… all of them were damaged in some way. Either seagulls had eaten the meat from the middle or the edges were broken off in chunks.

Eventually I found one with only a tiny piece missing and decided to hold on to it, figuring that it would still remind me of the day, even if it was imperfect. That’s when God and I had a conversation in a way I have only experienced a couple of times in my life, this being the first. It went something like this:

God: Do you trust me?

Me: Uh!!!!! What?! God, is that you?

God: Yes. Do you trust me?

Me: Yeeeeesssss…… why?

God: Do you trust me to give you good things?

Me: (thinking of the sand dollar) Yes, I do, but this is such a small thing. It really doesn’t matter. A sand dollar on a beach compared to all the far bigger and more important things you’ve got going on. It’s not something I need, just a very minor want. I didn’t even ask you for it.

God: Exactly! I’m God. I hung the stars and own the cattle on a thousand hills. It’s nothing to me to give you something so small as a sand dollar simply because I can. Because it would make you smile.

Me: OK.

God: So, do you trust me?

Me: I do.

God: What’s that in your hand?

Me: Oh this? I’m just holding on to this one in case I don’t find one that’s whole. Then at least I’ll still have something.

God: Put it down.

Me: Wait, why?! If I put this one down and don’t find a whole one, then I won’t have one at all.

God: Do you trust me?

Me: OY! Yes

God: Then put down the broken thing you are clinging to so tightly so that your hands will be free to receive what is whole.

Me: (hesitantly puts it down and keeps walking)

Mind you, this entire conversation has happened in my head and heart. No one I was with had any idea, and I was feeling fairly awkward about it.

Was that real? Was it my imagination? Nothing in it contradicted anything I had read in the Bible about God or his character. Some were words from familiar Bible verses. I also wasn’t risking much, only a broken sand dollar. So, I was willing to give it time and let it play out.

After a while of walking empty handed, not so sure of God, myself, or the situation, I did find a sand dollar that was unbroken. Picking it up, realizing it was whole, and holding it in my hand was profoundly moving. God had taught me something about himself. About his ability and desire to provide for me, even in the small things. About his love for me, his knowledge of me, and his gentle care for my soul.

He illuminated a few things about my own character and desires as well. That I tend toward fear of missing out on something good. That I fear it so much I’m often willing to accept and even cling to what is not good so I don’t have to deal with the pain of being empty handed. And that there were times he would ask me to walk with and trust him on roads I didn’t particularly want to travel.

As we continued our stroll down the beach, one friend and I had gotten a ways ahead of the other three and I cautiously told her all that had just occurred. As she listened, she found another sand dollar that was whole. We were excited for her to have that symbol of the day, and of the lesson as well. Then we were surprised to find a third, and a fourth sand dollar. If we had one more there would be enough for all of us, but it was time to turn around and head back and we KNEW we had looked at every sand dollar on the beach between us and the car. So, I picked up one with only a tiny piece missing, just so there would be enough. I told myself it was ok, I could keep that one and give the whole ones to my friends along with the story so they’d have the fuller picture, but I had been the one to actually have the conversation so I didn’t mind having the broken sand dollar.

God: Do you trust me?

Me: GAH! YES! But I know there aren’t any whole ones to find on the way back! If I don’t keep this one, we’ll be one short.

God: Do you trust me?

Me: Yes.

God: Put down the broken one.

Me: (puts it down and proceeds to find another whole sand dollar where I knew there couldn’t possibly be one and shares the story of the lesson God taught me to my friends)

Was it really about the sand dollar?

Of course not! Though sand dollars have become a symbol to me of God as a good, kind, loving father, a detailed seer of me, and a capable and willing provider. Also a reminder not just of that day on the beach, but of God’s goodness.

Did it mean that accepting imperfections is somehow wrong? Or that God was always going to give me what I wanted?

NO! There are absolutely times when God’s provision doesn’t look like I thought it would. When pain or hardship, or acceptance of brokenness is part of the beauty. There are other times when his answer is a no, or not yet that’s difficult to hear. Rather it meant that when he asked me to let go of something, I didn’t need to fear (though I often still do).

Does it really matter if the conversation was actually with God or just something my mind pulled together from the scripture I knew and the truths about God in it?

I don’t know.

What I do know is that it’s been over 20 years since that day on the beach and I’ve never forgotten it.

What’s more, it’s a lesson I’ve clung to in the hard times when I had reason to question God’s goodness, his provision, and his character. When the words and actions of spiritually abusive organizations and leaders made me doubt he was a good father or good provider, whether he saw or cared for me at all. The thing is, truth is true even when it doesn’t feel like it. What I understood that day about who God is is still true and I can stand firm on it.

In the middle of a season of life in which everything I had worked and planned for was taken away, when I didn’t have any idea what the future held or how my bills would be paid, I went and had a sand dollar tattooed on my foot. I knew in that season I would need a reminder with every step I took that God hadn’t changed. That he did see me, and was working on my behalf. The season was still long, painful, and full of fear and doubts. It wasn’t the only season of its kind either. The sand dollar tattoo wasn’t a talisman against difficulty, but it did remind me of what I knew to be true, and because of those truths, despair didn’t win.

There have been so many “do you trust me?” moments. Moments in which I had to decide whether or not to let go of something very important to me. My church, a ministry, a way of life I enjoyed, a job, a sense of belonging and security, a community I had spent a lot of myself building. People who were genuinely kind and whose hugs and smiles were real. People I would lose, and miss if I left that place, that organization, that church. Places in which I knew I could do good, that I wanted and was willing to serve and love well. Things I would absolutely feel the loss of. Things that would take years to rebuild. 

I usually knew what I was clinging so tightly to was broken, even harmful. Several times others confirmed that it was. Even so, letting go has been heartbreaking at times. It has felt disloyal, rule breaking, foundation shaking, financially irresponsible, soul crushing, and lonely. Having hands free to receive the “good/whole” thing God wanted for me has often meant long stretches of grief. Walking around confused and tearful with empty hands, financial instability, too much free time, no community to do things with, no friendships with any depth to them can be deeply painful.

But God really is good. He really does provide. The season of empty-handedness doesn’t last forever. Sometimes the “good” and “whole” sand dollar God brought was simply not being actively harmed. Receiving the freedom to say no, ask questions, seek truth, call abusive behavior abusive, or just to do things differently without fear of consequences. Having a regular job I won’t lose if my spiritual leaders disliked a choice I made. Other times it was the slow discovery or creation of something stunningly beautiful. Relationships in which there’s real trust and companionship built over time and with healthy boundaries in place. Being part of a truly healthy Christian community (they do exist!) based on knowing and loving God and others rather than striving together to prove our worth to people in power. Ultimately growing in understanding of God, experiencing his peace in difficult times, and learning to pass on what comfort I have received from him to others.  

Symbols are only symbols, but they can be helpful reminders of deep truths and convictions. The cross is one such symbol, but it’s not the only one. Having something physical, a piece of art, mug, a necklace pendant or bracelet charm, anything that’s a tangible symbol of a lesson learned can be a powerfully helpful thing to remind us to cling to the truth of God’s promises and character. If we let it, it can be a lighthouse on a dark night to keep us on course toward the one who knows and loves us perfectly, even when we don’t see how that’s possible.