but give me love over, love over this

For most of us there is something we could point to in our past that crafted us into what we are today. Some had the benefit of a loving family, or an intimate relationship with that one person who has loved you more than you ever thought you deserved to be loved. It's that scene from "The Fisher King", when Robin Williams promises Amanda Plummer that he loves her because of her "issues", and swears he will always call. The kind of affection and commitment that sees past all the short comings, all the vices...the hurt and the insecurities. Some of us though, can't grasp that experience. For our entire lives we've been cheated out of love, and forced to find it on our own when it should have been lavished on us for as long as we could remember. The bruises we all carry underneath and try so desperately to cover with smiles and pleasantries like, "I'm good. You?" are the real us.

The name of this blog, "wounds that heal and cracks that fix", is a line from Coldplay's haunting, yet hopeful "Politik". The song seeks a worldview and asks for an explanation. We could give our own and that would be fine, but there's something deeper going on. If one was looking at us "from outer space", would they see all of humanity searching for "a place", and that fisher-king love? The second verse reads:

Give me one 'cause one is best
In confusion, confidence
Give me peace of mind and trust
Don't forget the rest of us
Give me strength, reserve control
Give me heart and give me soul
Wounds that heal and cracks that fix
Tell me your own politik"

As the song moves from its haunting drive, it culminates in its hopeful cry, "But give me love over, love over, love over this". The love that we cry out for, the love we long for is the only thing strong enough to heal the wounds and fix the cracks that we spend a lifetime hiding.


There are few books that carry with them a weight quite like Fyodor Dostoevsky's, The Brother's Karamazov. Throughout the monumental work we find a continuous theme. The picture Dostoevsky paints of the "lascerations of the heart", represent the deepest passions of humanity. Whether harmful or beneficial, they cut us to the core and leave wounds and cracks that make us a "Karamazov" - they make us who we are. We don't hide them, we recognize the bruises as reminders of weakness and a cry for the desperate love that will fill in all the gaps.

When I think of the horrors that some have endured, that perhaps some of you have endured, I can't pretend to know the pain or the hurt. Our wounds and cracks dont seem to all be the same size, or as deep. All I can hope is when you sing, "but give me love over this", the perfect love, the epic love of history, the love of a father for the wayward son, would be the end of the coverup, and would heal the wounds, and fix the cracks. May we give love over all to each other. May we find it.