A few weeks ago, I found myself sitting at a funeral, numb, quiet, holding back tears I didn’t know how to release. I could feel the ache sitting heavy in my chest, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t let it out.
One of my prophetically gifted friends noticed. After the service, she gently said, “It’s like you’re holding onto your pain, gripping it instead of giving it to God.” Then she said something that would stay with me:
“You’re holding onto your broken toys.”
She explained, “When a child breaks a toy, they bring it to their parents, trusting them to fix it or replace it. But you’re clutching your broken ones, unwilling to hand them over to your Father.”
Her words pierced me. I realized there were things in my life I wasn’t ready to surrender: dreams that hadn’t worked out, relationships that had shifted, disappointments I didn’t want to face. Somewhere deep down, I preferred the broken toy because at least it was familiar. At least it was mine.
If I gave it to God, I feared He might not fix it. He might replace it, and I wasn’t ready for that.
When We Prefer What’s Broken
Sometimes we don’t cling to what’s healthy; we cling to what’s known.
We tell ourselves we’re waiting for healing, but in truth, we’re resisting surrender. We’re afraid that letting go will mean loss.
But the reality is that God can’t heal what we refuse to hand Him.
“Cast all your cares on Him, because He cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7
That’s the invitation: to bring the broken toy to our Father. Not because He delights in taking it, but because He alone knows how to mend it or, when necessary, replace it with something new.
Childhood Lessons
I don’t have children of my own, but as I reflected, I thought back to my own childhood.
Sometimes, when a toy broke, I was afraid to tell my parents. There was a shame in it, a fear that I’d get in trouble, that my carelessness or clumsiness had caused the damage. So instead of bringing it to them, I’d hide it or keep playing with it, pretending it was fine.
But the truth is, playing with a broken toy can hurt you.
The jagged edges cut. The missing pieces frustrate. The fun becomes painful.
And isn’t that what we often do with the broken things in our lives?
We keep engaging with what’s fractured, whether it’s a relationship, a habit, or a dream, because admitting it’s broken feels like failure. We hide it from our Father, afraid of disappointment, when He’s the only One who can actually heal it.
A Practice of Surrender
As I journaled through this moment, I began to list the things that felt broken in my life and asked myself three questions:
1.What is the broken toy I’m still holding?
2.What do I fear will happen if I release it?
3.What truth about God do I need to believe instead?
And here’s the honest part:
There were some things I couldn’t release right away.
I remember praying, “God, I want to give this to You, but I’m not ready yet. Help me to get there.”
It wasn’t defiance; it was honesty. I didn’t want to fake surrender. I wanted to get to a place where my release was real.
So, I made a choice: even if I couldn’t fully let go today, I would keep trying daily. Each day, I’d revisit that “broken toy” in prayer and say, “Lord, I still feel attached to this, but I’m giving You a little more of it today.”
There’s one verse I keep coming back to, even though I haven’t seen it fully happen yet:
“I will restore to you the years that the locust has eaten.” — Joel 2:25
Some days, I read that and feel it rise in faith. Other days, I whisper it through tears. But I’ve learned that belief doesn’t always mean certainty. Sometimes it’s simply refusing to close your heart. It’s saying, “God, I haven’t seen You restore this yet, but I’m trusting You’re still writing.”
The Father’s Hands
If you’ve ever struggled to let go of something that’s not working anymore, something you know God is asking you to release, I want to remind you that your Father can be trusted.
He’s not careless with your heart.
He’s not indifferent to your tears.
He doesn’t discard what you love; He redeems it.
Sometimes He fixes what’s broken.
Sometimes He replaces it.
But every time, He heals you.
So today, take a deep breath. Open your hands. Bring Him your broken toys.
Because what you release, He restores.
Reflection Verse:
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3
Reflection Prompt:
What’s the “broken toy” you’re still holding onto, and what would it look like to trust God with it today?