For weeks I’ve been wrestling with these few words, trying to unpack what’s going on here: “The voice of the LORD breaks the cedars…” Here’s why it’s complicated:

Several times in the Bible cedars symbolize worldly might and power, specifically power that sets itself up against God. And the first two letters in the Hebrew word for “cedar” are א(it originally depicted an ox-head, which symbolized strength or might) and a ר (originally depicted a human head, and meant chief or authority). The last is the  ז which depicted a plow. So God could be telling us that His voice breaks disruptive power and authority.

And there’s something satisfying about that. We all want to side with the God who puts the haughty in their place and rescues the vulnerable.

But there’s so much more to this God, and to what His word is saying here. Cedar isn’t just a symbol for proud strength. It’s also the wood used to build the temple. It resists rot, so it also symbolizes incorruptibility.  And it it’s used in Biblical cleansing ceremonies. We’re not talking about rituals invented by people here. These were prescribed by God Himself. And since cedar is also a medicinal plant, it’s a symbol of physical healing as well as spiritual cleansing.So cedars are a picture of malignant strength and restorative strength. And I desperately want God’s voice to snap the cedars of arrogance and injustice like toothpicks. But I have a really hard time with Him breaking the cedars of healing and worship.

Why would He do that?

I don’t have an answer. My heart hurts just thinking about a God who would break us in the places where we display His image most purely and clearly.

But then I think about the villain in the Princess Bride, who insisted “that everyone is healthy before they’re broken” and how God does the opposite.

“Come, let us return to the LORD. He has torn us to pieces but He will heal us; He has injured us but He will bind up our wounds.”

And about Yeshua, who allowed Himself to be broken in His perfection. And how His brokenness makes every healing  possible. And I find myself asking:

What if brokenness isn’t personal? What if it isn’t a character flaw?  What if it just is…or what if our brokenness, like His, makes healing possible?

What I know is that His voice has broken me in prideful places and in pure places. It has healed and is healing me. Extracting potent medicine from splintered branches. Building a temple from fallen trunks.

How have you seen God’s voice bring brokenness? How have you seen brokenness bring healing?