Broken people have hit bottom and survived. They know they will hit lower bottoms still and will rise up with even more life. They are overwhelmed by both their selfishness and their neediness to the point where they gladly admit their radical dependency on God. No one else will do. With pride squeezed out of them, they can only plead mercy.
Because broken people have faced death and lived, nothing about who they are is at stake when they engage with others. They don't have to be helpful or clever or appreciated. When they interact with us, we realize they are not working to make anything happen.
Brokenness has humbled them. We feel no pressure to cooperate with some effort to change us. They want us to change, to grow, to mature, but we don't have to change for their sakes. Whether we change or not, they remain solid. We can hurt them but we cannot destroy them. We don't make them nervous. Therefore, we feel safe. The broken people I know seem more aware of their inadequacies than their strengths, but not with a "poor me, take care of me" attitude. They feel their neediness. We feel their strength. Broken people always find a reason to worship God and to celebrate us. We don't feel used by them because their centre is already solid. With their new purity clearly in view, they never ask us to finally validate them. That's already been done.
Broken people can say hard things and we appreciate it, because they find no joy in the power of superior knowledge or superior morality. They take no pleasure in their being right and our being wrong. God's glory matters to them, and it matters more than anything else. They are not proud of their wisdom, they don't put their insight on display to win applause.
And they are vulnerable, not indiscriminately but meaningfully. Their self disclosure doesn't feel self preoccupied. When they share their struggles, we know we're invited in but not to help, not to feel sorry for all they endure, but rather to hope together.
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