Kintsugi is the Japanese art
of finding and creating beauty from brokenness.
In this process,
shattered pieces
of porcelain and pottery
are joined by lacquer
mixed with powdered gold
or silver
or platinum.
The broken parts become
even more prominent,
even more noticeable,
and each broken and restored vessel
carries a unique and haunting beauty.
Kintsugi embraces the belief
that accepting flaws
and acknowledging imperfections,
allows us to create something
meaningful and valuable
from shards and scraps and jagged edges.
Instead of discarding something broken
as worthless,
Kintsugi honors
the pain of breaking
and the joy of surviving.
In this process,
scars remain
as a tangible witness
to the power and grace of restoration.
When Jesus appeared to the disciples
after the resurrection
he came among them
bearing his wounds.
Even in his resurrected body,
His pierced hands and feet
still carried the marks of torture.
His body continued to tell the story
of human pain and vulnerability.
He had been transformed,
glorified,
imbued with new life.
Yet His scars remain.
In our eyes,
scars and wounds are ugly things,
sometimes even
shameful things—
Imperfections—
damages we long to erase
with lasers,
and peels,
and collagen induction therapy.
We employ plastic surgeons,
make-up artists,
topical medications,
even strategic hair styles--
to minimize
or hide
the broken pieces we cannot quite mend.
We pretend,
ignore,
stuff down spackle over glitter bomb
those wounds that lurk deep inside,
in places only God can see.
Yet His scars remain.
Our scars are reminders
of pain we prefer to forget.
They are legacies of difficult times,
perilous journeys,
dangerous mistakes.
They are mementos
of vulnerability or fear
that we deny or suppress.
Yet His scars remain.
Jesus appeared among the disciples,
bearing his wounds,
and proclaiming the news
that the pain of humanity
had become the pain of God.
Proclaiming the news that
wounds,
scars,
even death,
no longer hold power.
Jesus appeared to them,
Resurrected,
Transformed,
bearing scars that remained visible
because his suffering
was an essential part of his story—
and ours.
His wounds remained,
but they did not define him.
His scars endured,
but they did not limit him.
His pierced flesh did not
bind him in anger
or trap him in a cycle of revenge.
Rather, His wounds create meaning.
They witness to sacrificial love
and to the power of life over death.
They witness to restoration,
Healing,
Mercy.
Perhaps most important,
His wounds invite us to find meaning
amid our own brokenness.
His wounds invite us to see discipleship
as a journey that does not hide scars,
but rather, transforms them.
Jesus appeared to the disciples
so that he might teach,
heal,
reassure…
and send out in mission.
“Thus it is written that the Christ would sufferand rise from the dead on the third day and that repentance, for the forgiveness of sins, would be preached in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things."
You are witnesses of these things.
In our work as witnesses,
one of the most powerful things
we bring to this mission
is our wounds.
How many people
have turned away from the Church
believing there is no place for them here,
because in our zeal to present our very best front,
all cleaned
and scrubbed
and perfect--
we send the unspoken message
that people cannot bring their frayed edges—
their thorns
their splinters
their trailing bandages
into the sanctuary?
When we go out as witnesses,
we will find a deep brokenness
among the people we encounter.
People are lost and wandering on the margins
for reasons that often cut deep.
We will be led to places where people
walk barefoot across jagged shards of
sin,
fear,
illness,
remorse,
addiction,
loneliness—
We will enter places where people bear the scars
of trauma and loss.
Our wounded witness can speak of a God
who also carried scars.
A God who did not run
from suffering and pain.
Our witness can speak of a God
who shares our sorrow,
who understands our loneliness,
who knows how it feels to be betrayed,
who carried the cross of persecution.
Our own wounds will witness to the truth
that our scars need not define us,
bind us,
limit us,
trap us.
Rather, they can be taken up into Christ’s story,
and redeemed.
And like Christ’s own wounds,
some of our scars will remain
as a tangible witness
to the transformative power of restoration.
Because Christ appeared wounded,
we can share the Good News
that God continues to create something beautiful
and meaningful
and valuable
from the shattered pieces of our brokenness.
You and I,
we are witnesses of these things.