Broken Vessels

David S. McLeod,
The University of Kansas,
Undergraduate Biology Program

[May 6, 2012]–

I have had the pleasure of spending this semester in Hamburg, Germany on a sabbatical research fellowship. It has been a wonderful time of learning, exploration, and discovery.

Living only a short distance from my host university my daily walk to work takes me past a most unusual storefront. It is a ceramics repair shop where I have watched the artists repairing peoples’ broken treasures. The shop is littered with vases, sculptures, plates, and other objects of varied description with one thing in common: they are broken, chipped, cracked, and flawed. One piece, however, has really caught my eye.

Ready for the Trash Bin

In the window of the shop is a white porcelain vase. Nearly all the pieces are there, although the vase is completely broken. I imagine it tumbling from a mantle or slipping through wet fingers, crashing to the floor. Some would have swept up the many pieces and thrown them away, but this was obviously someone’s treasure. Rather than discard it, they picked up the pieces and held them together with small bandages.

As I walk past the window each day it reminds me that I too am broken. My colleagues, my students, my family—we are all broken. We are all worthy of the trash bin, but Someone cares enough about us that He wants to save us from this fate and restore us completely.

Not a DIY Project

We are inclined to try to “fix” ourselves. Our attempts, however, are less than satisfactory and often we end up held precariously together with what amounts to band-aids, tape, and sloppy glue jobs. Like the vase in the window, we’re probably even missing a piece or two when we finish our self-fix. What we need is One who can put us back together perfectly, seamlessly, better than new.

We know that God, who saved us from the trash bin, is the only one capable of really putting us back together. He is more than the artist who can fix us. He created us and thus, He alone can heal and restore to the fullness of the treasure He intended us to be.

If that vase were mine, sitting again on the mantle at home, I’d be sure to tell people about the one who fixed it. Valuing the vase enough to save it, I’m certain I’d be inclined to share its story with anyone who paused long enough to hear me. Since we’re all broken and we all need to be repaired, shouldn’t we . . . shouldn’t I . . . be telling anyone and everyone about the One who can heal and restore?

Restoration

I’m reminded of 1 Cor. 4:7 “But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.” Isn’t it amazing that God would fill us, fragile earthen vessels, with the Holy Spirit and the good news of the Gospel of Christ?

Therein lies our only hope for restoration. Christ — a willing, broken vessel. Broken for us and then wholly restored by the same God that offers to do the same for us.

(c) 2012 David McLeod
photo (c) David S. McLeod

Stay Tethered and Run Free

Heather Holleman,
English,
Penn State University

[April 29,2012]–

I heard a story recently about horses that I think about every day now. It’s changing how I think about my calling not just as a faculty member, but as a wife, mother, and neighbor. In light of the Sandusky sex-abuse scandal at Penn State and the subsequent firing of Joe Paterno, our community suffered. I learned about the behavior of these horses at a seminar training those willing to help members of our community who are suffering from abuse. Since then I began to apply it broadly to all of my relationships.

A psychologist shared that she grew up on a farm, and she noticed something incredible about her horses during a barn fire. When a fire occurred, all of the animals would run free from the barn and not return except the horses. The horses would go back into the burning barn, to the perceived safety of their stalls.

Unless they were tethered.

Only if tethered would the horses, having been rescued from the burning barn, not return. The psychologist made the point that as we begin to attempt to set ourselves free from dangerous or toxic situations in our lives, we sometimes go back to the burning barn. We find safety in the familiar. Over and over again, we might return to what’s not good for us.

Unless we are tethered.

My faculty neighbors and I now claim we are “tethered horses.” Together we can change our lives and not return to dark places. As we heal, we stay tethered.

To tether means to restrict, and it seems restrictive indeed. Yet when viewed in light of my own freedom, I have chosen to tether myself to Jesus Christ, in whom we have a hope spoken of in Hebrews 6:18-20 as “an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” Having that stability I also choose to join the women in my community for accountability. We’re running from a burning barn out into a glorious pasture, but only when we are tethered.

Normally, I think about the stereotypically distant and reclusive professor who hides in an office, tethered more to books and papers than anything else. But I’m choosing to break the stereotype. I’m coming into the hall, into the classroom, and into the neighborhood. There I’m finding folks who need help running from the burning barn. I ask God to give me opportunities to share that tethered to Jesus Christ they too can find true freedom.
© 2012 Heather Holleman
photos©istockphoto

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