“You really should look for something less expensive to replace if you plan on throwing things,” my husband said as I deposited the pieces of our electric car key into his outstretched hand. “A pillow, maybe?”
It wasn’t my habit to hurl things, but somehow I couldn’t help it that day. We had lost too much. Stress was piled so high following a recent tragedy I couldn’t tamp it down anymore. My humanity erupted in the middle of my kitchen.
A long, narrow room with walls enshrouded in white tiles, it offered the perfect setting. I closed the door, grabbed my set of keys, released a guttural cry and flung them against the farthest wall. It felt so satisfying, I retrieved the bundle, turned around and sent them careening again, this time in the other direction.
The second blow proved too much for our remote control key, and it and came to rest, disemboweled, on the stone floor.
Coming back to my senses, I rushed to collect the scattered pieces. It was soon clear my skills would be inadequate to repair the key. I would need help.
I’ve never been very handy with this sort of thing, but I realized early in our marriage that my husband and I were perfect compliments. I could make a mess and he would know how to fix it. It just worked for us.
He eventually got the key to function again, but it was blemished. A small chunk had broken off the plastic casing. The irregularity was more cosmetic than anything, but it served as a reminder of my unraveling.
In our darkest years, I felt like that key. Thrown against walls of circumstances and hardships I never wanted. Broken by disappointment and uncertainty. Scattered by my own insecurities, fears and emotional baggage. Undone.
I wondered if I could ever be put back together again. And if so, would I be worth anything when it was done.
God met me in my lament, as only He can, with grace to embrace my humanity. Then, through the discovery of an ancient art form, He lifted my soul to see brokenness as a source of strength and a central element of beauty.
While on a trip to Mexico City, a friend taught me about Kintsugi, a Japanese art form centered on the restoration of broken earthen vessels. The jagged shards of common plates or bowls are collected and the vessels are restored. However, rather than joining the broken fragments with simple glue, the artisan unites them with a mixture of epoxy and gold dust.
Through this method of reconstruction, broken places are not disguised, but highlighted. What before was merely a functional piece, is then transformed into art and imbued with new life through the artisan’s skillful hands.
Interwoven in this art form are philosophical ideas that were prevalent in 15th century Japanese culture. Namely the art of finding beauty in the commonplace, the reluctance to waste anything, and the importance of remaining open to change.
The visual representation of Kintsugi reminded me of how the Bible also refers to us as earthen vessels carrying a treasure of infinite worth. Although “imperfect,” it is the cracks that permit the Light from within to shine through.
“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” –2 Corinthians 4:7
Tamara Carpenter is part of Newsong’s Board. You can read more of her writing on her blog: tamaracarpenter.com
