By Justin Pratt, Clear Springs Baptist Church Senior Pastor
This is a follow-up to last week’s article on why we should let everyone know that all good in our lives comes from God. There is something strangely beautiful about an old, cracked vessel. Most of us would probably pass it over for something newer, cleaner and unblemished. We tend to value what is polished, whole and impressive. Cracks make us nervous because cracks suggest weakness. We spend a lot of time trying to hide the cracks. We fix what we can. Cover what we cannot. Polish the surface. Keep the weak places out of view. That is human nature. We want people to see the finished product, not the damage it took to get there.
Sometimes, however, the cracks are what make the story worth telling. The Apostle Paul once used the picture of an ordinary clay or earthen vessel to describe human life. He wrote, “We have this treasure in earthen vessels.” His point was simple: The value was never in the container; it was always in the content. In Paul’s day, clay jars were common. Cheap. Fragile. Easily broken. Nobody displayed one because of its beauty. Its value came from whatever it carried. That is still true of us.
We like to believe strength is what makes our story impressive, but often it is the opposite. Sometimes the most powerful part of a person’s life is not that they never broke, but that God proved faithful in the breaking. There is a difference between pretending the battle was easy and testifying that God was good. You do not have to say the diagnosis didn’t scare you, pretend the loss did not hurt, act like the season was simple, the grief was shallow, or the fear was small. You can say, “It was hard.” “I was scared.” You can say, “There were days I did not know how I was going to make it.” And then you can say, “But God was faithful.” That is not weakness. That is testimony. A Christian testimony isn’t meant to impress people with where we’ve been or what we’ve done. It should impress people with the God who brought you through it.
Think about a cracked clay jar with a light burning inside it. The cracks don’t create the light; they give it a place to shine through. That is what some of our scars do. The place you wish had never been broken may become the very place where someone else sees hope. The season you would never choose to relive may become the story someone else desperately needs to hear. The wound may become the window, the scar the evidence and the broken places may become the place where the treasure finally becomes visible.
We live in a world that puts too much emphasis on the container. Appearances. Titles. Accomplishments. Image. Strength. God has always used ordinary people, weak people, wounded people and imperfect people to carry something far greater than themselves.
That way, when the story is told, the emphasis doesn’t stay on the person; it returns to the One who carried them.
So, if someone asks how you made it, tell them. If they ask how you survived, tell them. If they ask how you kept going when your strength ran out, let them know. Not so they are impressed with the container, but so that they understand something about the power and the sweetness of the content. So everybody knows. Sometimes the cracks in the vessel are exactly what allow people to see the treasure inside. And when they do, make sure they know where the glory belongs.
