What Japanese Art Can Teach Us About Brokeness
This is an except from Fail: Finding Hope and Grace in the Midst of Ministry Failure by J.R. Briggs
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Several years ago I attended an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. By God’s grace, I have never been addicted to alcohol (and I am not in denial) nor do I have family members who have struggled with alcoholism. I went as a curious observer and student to learn the secret behind this powerful cluster of thousands of groups across the world who have found healing and hope in the acknowledgement of their brokenness. What I found surprised me: AA seemed to have a better grasp of admitting brokenness, leaning into uncomfortable truth, owning up to failures and taking off masks than the Church did. The Church has much to learn from AA.
The well-known twelve-step program of recovery begins with a clear acknowledgement of failure – we are powerless over alcohol, our lives have become unmanageable and we are in need of help (step one) and a Power greater than oneself was the only hope they had in restoration (step two). Furthermore, they must admit to God, to themselves and to others the specific areas of failures and wrongdoings (step five). Those who have experienced healing through AA will tell you that without this admission, the process simply does not work. It is an acknowledgement of failure and an acceptance of limitation that is essential in order to, as they say, “work the steps.” The courageous men and women involved in AA know first-hand there is power in weakness. Accepting their failure and understanding restoration was dependent upon God and others was their process of healing and wholeness. Sometimes, as Dan Allender wrote, the quickest path up is down, and likewise, the surest success comes through being honest about failure. True freedom comes when we no longer try to protect our image, but instead attempt to bear His image in our broken lives faithfully.
Accepting our wounds and brokenness as the foundation of true spiritual breakthrough reminds me of wabi-sabi. Wabi-sabi is a Japanese form of art that finds its beauty in its purposeful imperfection. This type of art is seen as beautiful because it is imperfect, flawed, broken and incomplete. It is the Japanese equivalent to broken stained glass. Characteristics of wabi-sabi are irregular, rough, broken and asymmetrical. This art form acknowledges three simple, but profound realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.5 It’s purpose is to confidently communicate perfect imperfection.
According to Japanese legend, a young man named Sen no Rikyu sought to learn the elaborate set of customs known as the Way of Tea. He went to tea- master Takeeno Joo, who tested the younger man by asking him to tend the garden. Rikyu cleaned up debris and raked the ground until it was perfect, and the garden immaculate. Before presenting his work to the master, he shook a cherry tree, causing a few flowers to fall onto the ground. To this day the Japanese revere Rikyu as one who understood to his very core wabi-sabi. Emerging in the 15th century as a reaction to the prevailing aesthetic of lavishness, ornamentation, and rich materials, wabi-sabi is the art of finding beauty in imperfection and profundity in earthiness, of revering authenticity above all.
When a white pottery bowl, for example, breaks one might glue it back together with white lacquer so as to disguise the lacquer, making it look as new and complete as possible. In the East, the white pottery bowl might be glued back together with lacquer sprinkled with gold, so as to highlight the cracks and imperfections in the bowl, not hide them. The Japanese culture sees the aesthetic value of imperfection in wabi sabi just as much as the Greeks valued perfection in their art. The gospel seems to do its most remarkable work in the style, expression and medium of wabi sabi. To understand wabi-sabi is to grasp God’s hallowing of hollowed-out, broken people to bless a harried world. When we are weak, He is strong.