Some professing Christians have faith-shattering experiences. It leaves their faith in pieces. And in this life they can't repair it. Some pieces are missing. This causes some professing Christians to lose their faith. Sweep away the remainders.
But others cling to the shards of glass. Even a shattered faith is better than no faith at all. Sometimes God melts the broken glass and reforms their faith, like a glass-blower. But in other cases, only heaven can replace or refit the broken pieces.
To vary the metaphor, deciduous trees turn twice: in autumn, the tree symbolically dies. Its leaves turn yellow, orange, red, and brown, then drops its leaves, one-by-one, until the tree denuded. In Spring, the tree symbolically revives, producing buds that blossom and bloom into flowers and leaves.
Faith has seasons. Faith in spring and summertime. Like first love or falling in love. Vivacious. Autumnal faith. Darker, sadder.
Faith in winter. In a sense, faith must die to be reborn. The tree doesn't die inwardly but outwardly, shedding its leaves. Contracting. Withdrawing from the world into a bare essence. Waiting for the sun to return in its spring and summer glory.
Sometimes, or so I would hope, what's been broken but repaired is more beautiful than what was never broken in the first place à la kintsugi.
ReplyDelete