He Still Wants You: A Letter to the One Who Feels Too Broken for God
To the one quietly wondering if they’ve gone too far—
Hey, friend.
I’ve been there too. The kind of low where even your breath feels borrowed, and you can’t remember the last time you looked in the mirror and recognized who was staring back. I’ve known the silence that makes you question if God left—or if you just became too much to love. But before we go further, let me tell you this plainly:
You are not too broken for Jesus.
Seriously. Not now. Not ever.
And I don’t just mean it in a vague, poetic way. What I mean is, in the trenches of regret, in the middle of your spiritual mess, in the shame you can’t seem to shake—even there, He still wants you.
Let’s sit here together for a second, just you, me, and God.
We both know how loud the lies can be: “You should’ve been better by now.” “You’ve messed up one too many times.” “God’s probably disappointed in you.” I believed those lies for so long, they started to sound like my very own thoughts. I know you’ve heard them too—because lies like that don’t stay quiet for long.
But the Bible whispers something softer—something truer:
That “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18, NIV).
He’s not repelled by your broken heart; He’s drawn to it. He doesn’t see your crushed spirit and flinch—He moves closer. Always closer.
Not because you’ve earned it. But because His love moves toward pain.
And if you’re sitting there thinking, “But I’ve walked away…” —I get it. I’ve walked far away too. Sometimes with my eyes wide open, other times without realizing I had drifted away.
But God doesn’t throw away those who wander. He waits, patiently and tenderly.
“Return to me, and I will return to you,” He says (Malachi 3:7, NIV).
No need for a lengthy explanation. No need to hide. Just come back.
And if you're worried He’s too far away—you don’t need to climb some spiritual ladder. You just need to whisper, “I want You again.”
Maybe you’ve already tried to come back. Maybe you’ve repented, prayed, promised, and yet… shame is still sitting on your chest like a weight you can’t lift.
Let me speak directly to that:
“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1, NIV).
None. Zero. That heaviness? That accusation that plays on repeat in your mind? That’s not from God.
His voice sounds like rest. His arms feel like safety. His grace is not stingy—it’s full.
Maybe your soul is exhausted, and not just from what you’ve done—but from what you’ve been carrying… The constant pressure to feel okay. The deep-seated fear that no one will ever understand you. The weight of pretending you’re fine when your spirit is quietly unravelling.
Jesus sees that too.
And He says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28, NIV).
Not judgment, not another list of things to fix, Simply Rest.
He gives the kind of love that lets you exhale. The kind of love that makes space for you to heal. The kind of love that tells your soul: You don’t have to do this alone anymore.
Can I tell you something I wish I’d believed sooner?
You don’t have to clean yourself up before you come home to God.
You don’t have to be perfect, or polished, or impressive. You just have to be honest.
“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8, NIV).
While you were still struggling, you weren't alone. It didn't matter if you didn't figure things out. Didn't matter that the tears had dried. Right there in your mess—He saw you, and He stayed.
Maybe you feel invisible right now. Maybe you feel like your pain goes unnoticed, like you’ve cried quietly too many nights in a row and no one has said, “I see you.”
But God saw you first.
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart” (Jeremiah 1:5, NIV).
He hasn’t missed a moment. Not one sigh, not one breakdown, and not a single apology that you whispered into your pillow.
You’ve never been unseen.
And maybe the deepest ache of all is that you think your past rewrote your identity. That you’re forever labeled by the worst thing you did. That when God sees you, He sees your sin before your soul.
But Scripture says otherwise:
“You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession…” (1 Peter 2:9, NIV).
You’re not your relapse. You’re not your addiction. You’re not your depression. You’re not your wandering.
You’re chosen.
You’re still called.
You’re still His.
So if your heart is aching and your spirit is weary, I want to say this clearly:
He hasn’t changed His mind about you.
Not because you got it right. But because He never gets it wrong.
You may feel far, but you’re not forgotten. You may feel broken, but you’re not beyond repair. You may feel done, but He’s just getting started.
You are wanted. You are loved. You are welcome.
Maybe this is your turning point.
The moment where you stop trying to earn what’s already been given. This is the moment you let grace be grace. The moment you reach back toward the God who’s been reaching for you all along.
The porch light’s on. The table’s set. You don’t need to knock. Just come in. There’s a seat for you here.
Reflection Questions:
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What lies have I been carrying about my place in God’s heart?
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Which verse above felt like it was written just for me?
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What would it look like to believe that I’m still wanted—even now?
A Prayer for the One Who Feels Too Broken:
Jesus,
I’m tired. And I don’t know where to start. But I want You.
I don’t want to fake it anymore. I don’t want to carry shame that doesn't belong to me. I want to rest. I want to be free.
If You’re still calling me—I’m listening.
If You still want me—I’m coming.
Hold my heart. Heal what I can’t fix. And remind me that I still belong.
I’m coming home.
Amen.
With love and honesty,
Someone who’s been there
And from the God who never left.
Samiah Claire