There’s an ancient Japanese art form called kintsugi that has captivated my imagination for years. When a piece of pottery breaks, the artist doesn’t throw it away. Instead, they gather the fragments and carefully mend them with lacquer mixed with powdered gold. The result is not a disguise of the damage, but a celebration of it. The veins of gold shine like scars turned into stars.
It’s beautiful—and it’s captures biblical truths beautifully. I conducted this workshop for 90 persons.
Because kintsugi tells a story we Christians know well: the story of a God who does not discard the broken.
Brokenness Is Not the End
We live in a world obsessed with perfection. Flawlessness is praised, and damage is often hidden. But Scripture tells a different story. Throughout the Bible, God chooses the broken—Jacob the deceiver, David the adulterer, Peter the denier, Paul the persecutor. These are not people polished by perfection. They are people marked by mercy.
Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” God is not repelled by our brokenness. He is drawn to it.
Nowhere is this more clear than in Isaiah 61:1–3, a passage Jesus Himself read in the synagogue to declare His mission:
“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.”
This is the heart of the gospel: beauty instead of ashes. Healing instead of hiding.
Redemption Over Replacement
The world says: replace what’s broken.
God says: redeem it.
Kintsugi never pretends the vessel was never broken. It doesn't erase the history. Instead, it makes the history holy. Each crack becomes part of the story. That’s what grace does. It doesn’t deny the fall; it declares redemption.
In Christ, we’re not made shiny and new in a way that erases our past—we’re made whole in a way that includes it. The cross itself is a kind of kintsugi—a place where shame and suffering are transformed into beauty and glory.
Scars That Shine
Jesus Himself rose from the dead with scars still visible. Why? He could have been resurrected with a body unmarked by crucifixion. But He wasn’t. His glorified body still bore the wounds. Maybe because His scars weren’t signs of defeat, but of love. Of victory. Of healing.
Your scars, too, can shine. Not because you’re perfect, but because you’re redeemed.
Paul says in 2 Corinthians 4:7, “We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” Fragile vessels. Broken, chipped, imperfect. And yet—filled with glory.
Let the Light In
Several participants could not mend their pieces to perfection as small fragments were impossible to glue back. I suggested that perhaps 70 - 80% could be the new design and the hole maybe there to allow the Light to shine out. The room spontaneously let out in unison : “Ahhhh!”
Kintsugi teaches us that the broken can become beautiful, not in spite of the damage, but because of it. Our testimony is not just that we were broken—but that we were mended. By hands pierced for us. With grace that fills every fracture.
Let us not be ashamed of the cracks. Let us hold them up to the Light.
If this post resonated with you, share it with someone who needs to be reminded that they are not too broken to be loved—or redeemed.
If you would like me to conduct a similar workshop with your group, do drop me a message.
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