As some of you have learned from reading our book or following our social media, our family has walked through a circumstance no one wants to experience, yet too many have. We lost our 25-year-old son in June 2021 to the ravages of the fentanyl epidemic. The days, weeks, and months following his death were gut-wrenching. I honestly wasn’t certain how I could continue, except for the compassion and love of family and friends and a firm belief that God was alive, active, and present with me and my family, comforting us in our sufferings. I knew that no matter how devastating Noah’s loss was, I had to press on and press in to my faith in Jesus.
And God helped me to do just that, perhaps never more poignantly than on one particular morning early in our grief journey. I was walking our family dog, Sadie, while I listened to worship music on my airPodsÒ. As I rounded a corner in our neighborhood, a song that I loved filled my ears: Gratitude by Brandon Lake. For a second, the familiar notes and words of the song brought some comfort (maybe even a little joy) to my soul. But then, my mind was arrested as I took in the words of the bridge.
Come on, my soul
Oh, don’t you get shy on me
Lift up your song
‘Cause you’ve got a lion inside of those lungs
Get up and praise the Lord . . .
I sensed the Lord speaking to me in that moment, reminding me that although I might not be feeling it, He had placed a power inside of me that was capable of praising Him, even in the midst of deep pain. Moreover, He assured me that praising Him would bring healing to my soul, maybe not at that exact time, but gradually. As the prophet, Jeremiah, said (chapter 17, verse 14), “Heal me, O LORD, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved, for you are my praise.”
So, abandoning all self-consciousness and throwing my hands up in the air, I dug deep into my lungs in search of the lion, and with every ounce of belief I could muster, I urged that beaten down beast to roar. I declared my praise to the Lord God Almighty, trusting that He would indeed carry me and my family through the excruciating pain of our circumstance and somehow heal our deeply wounded hearts. And in that small act of faith, I sensed God’s presence and comfort in a gentle, yet powerful way. I knew He was and is with me.
Yesterday, I attended a women’s conference, and a panelist showed a photo of a beautiful piece of pottery adorned with long veins of gold. At first glance, one might think it was just part of the design, but the panelist explained its greater function. The vase was an example
of Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. The art chooses to see the brokenness of the pottery as part of the history of the object, rather than something to disguise.[1] I saw the beauty of brokenness, mended and made whole by a precious substance that not only makes the vessel functional, but enhances it with strength and beauty.
My personal worship of Jesus through the song, Gratitude, feels a little bit like Kintsugi. The death of my son broke me, but when I lifted those broken pieces to our Savior through my musical prayer, God infused His precious power into my heart, mind, and soul. And over time, the fissures in my heart are mending, and the vessel of my life not only is healing, but also is strengthening through a deeper comprehension of (and dependence on) God’s love, truth, and grace. I pray that for those of you who need it, you also will find beauty in the midst of ashes, and strength through the love and truth of our God.
— Linda R. Maynard, © November 2024
[1] “Kintsugi,” www.en.m.wikipedia.org, October 28, 2022.
