Jul. 12, 2022

Broken Pieces

There is a little church across the street from my apartment that I have been attending lately. When I first moved in, I would sit on my front porch and look at that church. Something about it called to my heart. It looked a little worn and weathered from the harsh New England weather and was in need of some TLC. It needed some paint and some yard work, but it had the most beautiful stained-glass windows. I would often sit and admire them, noticing the differences in each one, the subtle shade and design variations, and how the light played off of them. I would wonder how they looked with the sunlight pouring through. I would stare at those windows and think about what lay inside. Would it be as beautiful as I imagined it to be?

I think I connected to that little church because, when I moved here, I was processing some trauma and loss in my life, and I think I felt a little like that church. I felt a bit weathered and beat up from life, but those beautiful windows reminded me that even in the midst of damage, there is beauty. And I longed to see that beauty from the inside, but I didn’t go in. The thing with small churches is that you can’t hide. It can feel like walking into a family dinner in a house that isn’t yours. Everyone turns to look at you. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I wasn’t ready to be so conspicuous. I was still licking my wounds and keeping to myself.

I did, eventually, work up the courage to go to worship service one week. And I got to see those marvelous windows from the inside with the sunlight pouring through. It was glorious! It was a sweet, little gothic-style church with the wooden beams, the organ pipes up front and a kaleidoscope of colors dancing through those windows. It was warm, and welcoming, and I felt home.

Over the past year, that little church has undergone a facelift: the outside was scraped down and repainted, new stairs and a wheelchair ramp were built, and a new sign put up. There have also been new furnaces installed. The little church that was as bruised and battered as I felt, was healing, and growing. So was I. And those beautiful windows? Well, apparently, they, too, have some cracks and some holes. I had never noticed them. All those months of admiring the beauty of those windows and I had never noticed the brokenness. I had looked beyond it to see only the beauty of the whole design. I think we need to treat each other more like that.

Sara Bareilles is quoted as saying, “The idea behind a kaleidoscope is that it is a structure that’s filled with broken bits and pieces, and somehow, if you can look through them, you still see something beautiful. I feel like we are all that way a little bit.” I do, too, Sara. If we can look beyond each other’s brokenness to the see the beauty that is created within, we begin to see each other as God sees us. And maybe we can love each other as he has called us to do, with grace and compassion. Be brave. Be kind.