We
have this treasure in clay jars (II Cor. 4:7)
Cracked
Bells, Chipped Cups, and Me
It’s
always fascinated me. The symbol of our nation’s
freedom is the Liberty Bell, complete with a cracked
shell. In elementary school I was told that attempted
repairs to the bell never worked. Finally the obvious
crack was incorporated into the design. This defect
reflects a democracy obtained by flawed humans who
made their share of mistakes and miscalculations.
And, less-than-perfect humanity remains a visible
part of who we Americans are today. Somehow it seems
right to “own” that we are like all people
— quite useful, beautiful vessels, but vessels
whose edges are shattered.
Now shift your vision to coffee cups. I collect
those ceramic, multi-faceted containers for hot
beverages (styrofoam is much too practical and plain).
The cups come in all sizes and shapes. Some have
wording, some represent far away people or places,
some have artwork, and some are works of art. But
each, regardless of its intrinsic or sentimental
value, is susceptible to the curse of being a cup:
chipping. The usefulness of a chipped mug doesn’t
change; yet, even the tiniest chip alters my perception
of its beauty and value. Chipped cups are rarely
used for serving drinks to guests. Rarely do I select
one for my own personal use. I fancy my java served
in a symmetrical, visually pleasing cup.
What is it about us? Why do we often only display
objects that appear flawless? Why do we choose to
present ourselves as those who have their act together—as
with-it, unflappable, unbroken people? Is it possible
that we appear whole in order to camouflage our
unsightly feet of clay?
Writer Henri Nouwen popularized the term “wounded
healers.” He asserted that faith travelers
are strengthened most by fellow travelers who share,
rather than hide, their brokenness. God brings a
distinct sense of connection and healing into relationships
that allow the cracks and chips to be seen, shared,
and lightened. Whatever the source of the crack
or chip, regardless of the uniqueness of every hurt,
there are multitudes of people who can stand beside
us—if and when we let them.
Lord, there is much that breaks my heart. Help
me when I downplay the cracks and chips in my facade,
when I foolishly trust in showing others only the
unscathed exterior, when I fail to see that You
provide needed encouragement through fellow wounded
healers. Thank You for caring for me, even when
I feel uniquely abandoned and lonely. In the name
of the One who knows brokenness and wholeness, Amen.
