April 10th, 2025
Thursday, April 10th
Broken Hallelujah
Sheila Sonon
“Truly I tell you,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others.” – Luke 21:3 (NIV)
She didn’t have much - two small copper coins barely making a sound when dropped into the offering box—but Heaven heard them.
Jesus noticed her. A poor widow in a world that overlooked women, especially broken ones. She came not with abundance, but with lack. Yet, she gave. Not out of comfort, but out of cost. It was all she had.
Sometimes all we have is a broken hallelujah.
Maybe you’ve been there or you’re there now and honestly, I am here now.
I attend church, but I feel hollow. I worship, but my voice cracks under the weight of what I’m carrying.. Loneliness. Disappointment. Burnout. Guilt. My heart feels like it’s being held together with spiritual duct tape.
But, my broken hallelujah—it counts. Maybe, it might be the offering that moves God's heart the most.
He’s not looking for polished praise. What moves Him is surrender. Authenticity. Just like the widow, when we bring our last ounce of strength, our final whisper of hope, or shattered praise—we offer Him something holy.
Suffering has ways of stripping us down to the bare bones of faith. Sometimes it’s there, in the rawest places, that we finally see God. Not as a distant God, but as a close and compassionate Father. He doesn’t waste pain. He uses it, teaches us through it and reshapes us in it.
If all we can offer is a broken hallelujah—it's more than enough. When we bring God our brokenness, He doesn’t turn away. He begins the work of putting us back together, using our shattered prayers as brushstrokes in a greater masterpiece. Because only God can take our broken pieces and craft something breathtakingly whole.
Broken Hallelujah
Sheila Sonon
“Truly I tell you,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others.” – Luke 21:3 (NIV)
She didn’t have much - two small copper coins barely making a sound when dropped into the offering box—but Heaven heard them.
Jesus noticed her. A poor widow in a world that overlooked women, especially broken ones. She came not with abundance, but with lack. Yet, she gave. Not out of comfort, but out of cost. It was all she had.
Sometimes all we have is a broken hallelujah.
Maybe you’ve been there or you’re there now and honestly, I am here now.
I attend church, but I feel hollow. I worship, but my voice cracks under the weight of what I’m carrying.. Loneliness. Disappointment. Burnout. Guilt. My heart feels like it’s being held together with spiritual duct tape.
But, my broken hallelujah—it counts. Maybe, it might be the offering that moves God's heart the most.
He’s not looking for polished praise. What moves Him is surrender. Authenticity. Just like the widow, when we bring our last ounce of strength, our final whisper of hope, or shattered praise—we offer Him something holy.
Suffering has ways of stripping us down to the bare bones of faith. Sometimes it’s there, in the rawest places, that we finally see God. Not as a distant God, but as a close and compassionate Father. He doesn’t waste pain. He uses it, teaches us through it and reshapes us in it.
If all we can offer is a broken hallelujah—it's more than enough. When we bring God our brokenness, He doesn’t turn away. He begins the work of putting us back together, using our shattered prayers as brushstrokes in a greater masterpiece. Because only God can take our broken pieces and craft something breathtakingly whole.
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