IN THE MARGINS: When God breaks you

By Tony Martin
Editor

I’ve heard people pray, “God, break me.”

That’s a gutsy prayer. And it’s an ill-advised one if you don’t mean business.

We sometimes say it in a moment of deep emotion or spiritual hunger, without fully grasping what it might cost. We imagine God will bring a little discomfort, maybe rearrange a few priorities, and we’ll be “better” afterward. But brokenness — true, biblical brokenness — is not a tidy, Instagram-worthy process. It’s a demolition before reconstruction.

Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” That verse is comforting, but it also tells us something: God’s closeness is often experienced in the rubble.

Brokenness Is an Invitation and a Surrender

When we pray, “God, break me,” we are handing Him the keys and saying, “I trust You enough to take apart what I’ve built, because what You’ll build will be better.” That is not a prayer for the faint of heart.

Brokenness means letting go of our control, our image, our self-protection. And it’s not always voluntary — sometimes life’s events force the issue. A diagnosis. A betrayal. A loss you didn’t see coming. The world tilts, and the old structures won’t hold.

In those moments, God can put together something far better than the original. But make no mistake: that reconstruction is rarely painless.

Jesus said in John 12:24, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” Brokenness is that death. It’s the falling into the soil, hidden, unseen, and seemingly lost — only to emerge later as something new and fruitful.

Count the Cost

In Luke 14:28, Jesus says, “For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it?” The same applies to praying for brokenness. Restoration can come at a shattering, messy, horrific price. You may lose relationships. You may be called to let go of dreams. You may find parts of yourself you didn’t want to face.

We love the idea of being reshaped into Christ’s image, but we’re less enthusiastic about the chiseling process.

This is why flippantly praying “God, break me” is dangerous. It’s not just poetic language — it’s a consent form for the Holy Spirit to excavate you to the foundation.

When God Is in It, It’s Worth It

So is it worth it? If He’s in it, absolutely.

I’ve never met a truly surrendered believer who regretted letting God have His way, even when the process was brutal. I’ve seen widows who have discovered a deeper joy than they knew before loss. I’ve watched recovering addicts become ministers of mercy. I’ve witnessed once-prideful leaders turn into humble servants, freed from the weight of proving themselves.

Psalm 51 gives us a front-row seat to King David’s brokenness after his sin with Bathsheba. He prays in verse 17, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” David had been shattered by the exposure of his sin, yet he found that in the rubble, God was there — and that’s where true worship began.

Walking Through the Process

If you feel God calling you into a season of breaking and rebuilding, here are a few thoughts to anchor you:

  1. Be honest with God about your fears. You don’t have to pretend you’re ready for everything. Jesus in Gethsemane prayed, “If it is possible, let this cup pass from me” (Matthew 26:39), and still surrendered.
  2. Lean into community. Isolation magnifies pain. God often uses His people to carry us when we cannot walk.
  3. Stay in the Word. In seasons of breaking, your feelings will lie to you. Let Scripture tell you the truth about who God is and who you are.
  4. Look for God’s nearness in the rubble. The very places you feel most devastated may be where He meets you most deeply.
  5. Remember the endgame. He doesn’t break to harm; He breaks to heal and make whole in a way we could never reach on our own.

A Final Word of Encouragement

If you’ve already prayed, “God, break me,” and you’re in the thick of it, don’t assume the breaking means God has left you. It’s often the opposite. The breaking may be the very proof that He is with you and loves you too much to leave you as you are.

The pottery metaphor in Jeremiah 18 is one of my favorites: God is the potter, and we are the clay. Sometimes the vessel has to be reshaped entirely, and that means being pressed down, remolded, and spun on the wheel again. But the potter’s hands never leave the clay.

Brokenness in God’s hands is never wasted. It’s the starting point of a better story.

So, if you pray, “God, break me,” count the cost — but also count the joy that’s coming. Because in His hands, the end result will be something stronger, purer, and more beautiful than you ever imagined.