Scars of Gold
In Japan, there is a beautiful art form known as kintsugi. When a piece of ceramic is broken, there is no attempt to remove the damaging marks or repair it to its original form. There is no casting aside of the fragmented pieces, no replacing them with something new and whole. Instead, the fractures in the shattered piece are fitted back together and filled with gold. This is done not only to restore the function of the object but to emphasize the cracks. Each delicate scar of gold is made to reflect the object’s unique past, to tell a tale of pain and trauma.
Perhaps the ceramic was broken accidentally by a slip of the hand or a lapse in judgment. Perhaps the breakage occurred by force, ripped apart in anger or frustration. However it happened, the art of kintsugi assures the brokenness is not forgotten. The history of the damage is preserved and the cracks, now filled with gold, transform the piece from trash to treasure. The shattered object, destined to be disregarded, is now worth its weight in gold.
What if we embraced our brokenness the same way? What if we showed off our scars as evidence of our restoration? What if our past pain, our trauma, and the wounds inflicted on us by others, are not what devalued us but in fact what made us precious and worthy?
My husband and I recently celebrated seventeen years of marriage and as we were reflecting on all we’d been through together the image of kintsugi came to mind. I imagine our relationship as a broken bowl, weathered from years of holding our joys, our grief, our triumphs, and our tears. It is a well-loved bowl, to be sure, but it has some cracks. Some are wide and jagged, and others are barely noticeable, just hairline fractures really. Each one represents loss, heartache, regret, and doubt; seasons in which my husband Zach and I were utterly shattered and brought to our knees. Some scars remind me of the pain we endured, others of the pain we inflicted. Yet without them, we would not have the marriage we do today.
At our wedding ceremony, Zach and I listened to the words of 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (NIV): “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast. It is not proud. It does not dishonor others. It is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” We stared into each other’s eyes with intention and love as those words were spoken, but I will admit in the years since I have not always been patient with Zach. He has not always spoken words with kindness. I have been far too prideful in sharing my opinions and advice. I have been quick-tempered and he has held fast to grudges. We have not always protected each other. I have often failed as his prayer warrior. I have not always trusted him as the leader of our family, nor have I always been trustworthy. Zach and I have spent many evenings in tears, desperate to get the other one to see it through our eyes. We have held on tight to our convictions instead of to each other. At times, in the unlit corners of my mind, I have believed the lies of the enemy who cunningly planted seeds of doubt. I’ve questioned whether our marriage would make it. And yet we are still here, broken time and time again but still very much together, whole and restored by the love of Christ,
In His kindness, God has swept up the fragments of our marriage and restored them for His glory. I imagine God’s grace as liquid gold, seeping into every crevice, filling up every crack of our broken bowl, making beautiful scars from the evidence of pain. And when the gold sets our bowl is more durable than it was before it was broken. In Him, we are made whole again, stronger, and all the more valuable. The evidence is in the gold scars, proof of our redemption in Jesus. The gold is what makes the scars worth having.
1 Peter 1:6-7 (NIV) says, “In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith- of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire- may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.” Just as the imperfections in Japanese pottery can result in priceless works of art, the trials we’ve faced in marriage have resulted in faith that is of greater worth than gold.
In recent years Zach and I have had opportunities to share about seasons in our married life that were particularly painful. Difficult as it is to reflect on the past, it’s only then we begin to see beauty in the brokenness. Time and time again I’ve stood in awe at how God uses our testimony to offer hope and encouragement to others. The scars we humbly show are worn for His glory, testifying to His redeeming work in our marriage and increasing both the strength and value of our relationship.
God makes beauty from brokenness, not only in my marriage but in my life. My testimony is filled with scars, yours is too, but His glory shines through the cracks as gold. In the end, it’s those gold scars that make each of our stories so exquisite, more beautiful than the most flawless of art. Let’s embrace the evidence of a past that has made us who we are. Our past defines our worth, but not in the way the world says it should. Our past is what gives us value because it has been redeemed and we have been made whole again in Christ. Let’s show off our scars of gold for the world to see.