Words of The Lamb magazine

by Kellie D. Brown

We live in a disposable culture. Just look at our overflowing landfills. When something cracks or breaks, we tend to respond with a fickle discard and even a little glee that we can now justify replacing it with the newer, the shinier, the coveted upgrade. But this is hard to do when we are the broken thing. Eastern philosophy and practice so often reveal a divergent path and body of truths than traditional Western thought, especially concerning the existential. One such distinction can be seen in the Japanese art of Kintsugi, which dates from around the 15th century. Kintsugi originated from the quotidian need to repair broken pottery and then evolved into a highly esteemed art form and as a metaphor for human vessels that are battered around by life. Instead of mending the broken object by attempting to disguise the cracks and therefore consigning its future value to the fate of returning it to its original state, Kintsugi fills the fractured seams with a golden mixture that leaves a visible glinting to signify to the viewer that this particular piece has evolved. It has transformed into a new version, and its reincarnation does not bear a label that reads “flawed” or “diminished.” Instead, this gold-infused vessel has become even more prized. It has weathered the assaults of life and now stands proudly in testimony of its resilience.

Scripture makes frequent reference to vessels, both their practical uses and their spiritual applications. As recorded in 2 Kings, the prophet Elisha performed a miracle from God that centered around a borrowed collection of vessels. A woman’s husband had died, leaving her with nothing but a jar of oil and two children to feed. She appealed to Elisha, as a man of God, and he responded, “What shall I do for you?” Learning of their plight, Elisha told this family to borrow as many vessels from their neighbors as they could and for this mother to start pouring her oil into them. The miracle, of course, reveals itself as her solitary jar of oil continued to fill vessel after vessel until no more containers could be found. The great writer Anne Lamott is fond of saying, “God is such a show-off.” And she means this in the most sincere and humble way, as she has been the recipient of some dramatic interventions by our Lord.

Scripture often compares us with vessels, works created by the skilled hand of a master potter, but also subject to breaking. Isaiah 64:8 reads, “But now, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” Recognizing the fragility of our human condition, the Psalmist laments his diminished state by saying, “I have become like a broken vessel.” (Psalm 31:12) Scripture also extends the metaphor of us as vessels to include our need to be reworked and reshaped, as in the Lord’s quite direct conversation with Jeremiah.

^₂“Arise, and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.” ^₃So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. ^₄And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do. ^₅Then the word of the Lord came to me: ^₆“O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? declares the Lord. Behold, like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.” (Jeremiah 18:2-7)

We also find assurance in scripture that we will not be discarded or forgotten because of our imperfections and our brokenness. For our flaws, our cracks, can be a conduit for the light of the Spirit to enter in and then shine forth.

Even as we trust that God can use us despite our brokenness, it also remains true that being broken is hard and painful and that the reworking of the Spirit within us is not a quick or easy process. The prophecies concerning the coming of a Messiah recorded in Malachi 3 promise and admonish us that our Savior will operate as a refiner’s fire, that He will rework us and purify us, as in the refining of gold. There is much burning away of impurities in this process and the probable loss of things that we may not want to let go. Then there is the mystery and trepidation surrounding how we will look when we emerge from that fire. That is when we need to remember Kintsugi.

I have a small ceramic vase on my desk that comes from this Japanese art tradition. I have intentionally placed it where I work and write as a reminder. Seeing the gold streaks that fill imperfections in the firing of this piece of pottery serves as a gentle call to myself that we are surviving, and maybe even flourishing, through our brokenness. That our value is not diminished because of our cracks and flaws, but that our Lord continues a grace-filled process to refine and rework us toward greater value and purpose.