Why Do You Want Me to Be Broken?

A Reflection on the Psalm for September 11th, 2022
​Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Psalm 51

R. I will get up and go to my Father. 

Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. R.

R. I will get up and go to my Father. 

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me. R.

R. I will get up and go to my Father. 

O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise. The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. R.

R. I will get up and go to my Father.

Sometimes I read this psalm and feel kind of resentful. “Lord, why did you bother making me this way if I’m just going to sin over and over again? Why should I need to be washed? Why is the only sacrifice acceptable to you my broken spirit? What does that even mean?”


I guess I identify with both sons in this Sunday’s Gospel (Luke 15.18, which is the source of the Psalm response): the younger son’s arrogance and insistence on rejecting any help from the Father until he has no one else to whom he can turn; and the older son’s pride and bitterness at the Father’s rejoicing when the younger son returns home. 


What is a broken spirit? It seems that it must be the spirit of the prodigal son when he finds himself hungering for pig feed … or the spirit of the older brother after his father admonishes him for his bitterness. Sometimes, I almost think that God wants me to have a broken spirit. I know that’s not true … but I doubt I’m the only person who’s thought this amid pain and distress – thoughts like: “Why did you do this to me, God? Why did you let that happen? Why do you want me to be so broken?” That’s when reading this psalm makes me resentful, because wanting to be created anew means admitting that I’ve done something wrong or am at fault, right? 


The thing is, God doesn’t care if I’ve done something wrong or if it’s my fault (or someone else’s). God only cares that I want to come home. Even if only the tiniest, littlest part of me is sorry or seeks comfort and love from the Father, God still is waiting to welcome me back with the full force of His Love. Think of Jesus forgiving the criminal who was crucified beside Him. This man offered his faith and belief, and in that moment it was as if his sins had never existed. That is the fruit of asking for a new and right spirit.


I do find this hard to believe, to hold onto, maybe because it requires me to recognize that regardless of whether I’ve done wrong or not, I still need to ask God to change my heart. I’m stubborn: I can wall myself up inside a castle of defensive excuses like nobody’s business. There’s almost a hopelessness to this thinking because, if I claim that I don’t need to change, then I can’t change, and I can’t let God in either. (God needs only the tiniest crack in the fortifications to enter my heart.) So, how do I get out of this hopeless place?


By remembering that, to God, we’re simply children.


When a child does something wrong or makes a mistake, do I blame them, withhold love, or try to make them feel guilty? No! I usually think, “They’re just a kid”; try to sort out what’s appropriate behaviour and discourage what’s not; and move along. It’s obviously not always smooth, but that’s what I try to do.


God is my Father, and He does all that a million times better and more. 


We’re all children to Him. Fledgling, foolish, well-intentioned, good, flawed children. And He loves us, even when we make a mess. How much more does He love us when we come to him in tears asking for His help and love? 


God doesn’t want me to be broken-spirited; He wants me to be healed. But He will wait for me to make that choice, to ask for His Love and Mercy of my own will. He is the most steadfast, the most patient, the most kind. Yes, this is hard to hold onto, but it is the core of our faith. All I have to do is ask.



Kim Tan

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