The Hope in Our Scars, part 2

This week we continue a two-part series talking with Aimee Byrd about her new book, The Hope in Our Scars: Finding the Bride of Christ in the Underground of Disillusionment. Got some church hurt? Or friends with church wounds. Aimee’s work is for you….

SG: What do you want to see as the outcome of your work?

Jesus gives us a powerful metaphor in his warning, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! You shut the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. For you don’t go in, and you don’t allow those entering to go in” (Matt. 23:13). This sticks with me. I want to be a door-opener, and that is what I want to help my readers do. I end The Hope in Our Scars with a plea and a prayer for God to give us sight and recognition. We need a church that sees:

A Church that sees what’s real, that sees and names the brokenness but is looking at the edges of this brokenness as horizons of beauty where Christ works in the mending.
A church that sees Christ in one another so that we are truly known, our stories are drawn out of us, and we experience withness when we share them.
A church that sees Christ in the “earthly otherness of every other.” These are words I borrow from a poem by Malcom Guite and work from in the book. By this language, I am envisioning a church where the people there are more valued than the institution, denomination, and procedures. Do we see the earthly story of each other, woven with our own stories, giving our stories new light in the reality and beauty of the gospel?
A church that sees beauty, goodness, and truth. We sing together because of joy and gratitude. We lament together because faith meets us at the abyss. We pray together because we really believe that we are also spiritual beings, communing with Christ, who gives. We expect resurrection together because we are a body that is rebirthed and fruit producing through death. We preach the Word to one another because Christ is living and active in it. We baptize because Christ leads us together out of the Red Sea to living waters and because we belong to him in his death and resurrection in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We eat together in expectation of Christ joining us at the table, practicing for that Great Feast that we will share in the new heaven and new earth. We gather to receive the Eucharist because Christ is present, giving himself to us, in a mysterious and powerful way. This is the invitation into the real. Our participation in it is practice for eternity. We are sent out with this truth—Christ with us—as he continues to form us into his likeness in earthly otherness together. I believe that on the Great Day, when he returns for his bride to consummate his love, we too will be raised with the testimony of our scars, testifying to the hope that taught us how to see beauty, how to love, and how to walk in goodness together.

SG: In loneliness, in the absence of solid community, how do you spiritually feed yourself?

This has been my ache and groan, Sandra. I am raw and honest about this in my book. Christ has ministered to me deeply in his word, especially in the Song of Songs. I share this in my writing. We do have a church that we’ve been attending for over a year now, and yet we are still struggling for solid community there. But even as we are not confident that it is a denomination we want to join, and as we are finding it difficult to connect, it is the place we have right now where we can see Christ at work. Participating in worship there has enabled needed “unlearning,” healing, and growing.

Seeking out beauty is another way I spiritually feed myself. One of my favorite practices of this is hiking with my girlfriends. There we tell our stories while ascending the mountain, taking in the beauty while also lamenting together, laughing, sharing food and drinks, and then descending back to the parking lot letting the mountains hold it all. Friendship is such nourishment for the soul, and my husband and I are blessed with good friends.

I’m also a reader, and am so enriched lately by the contemplative writers, old and new. Journaling is another practice that helps immensely.

SG: Where do you think your gifting and experience intersects with the world’s/church’s need?

Hmm, I’m not sure I can answer that well. It sounds so big and I don’t feel that significant to these needs. But I would say that my aim is to offer an invitation we so desperately need when experiencing disillusionment. To join others in opening the door of the kingdom of heaven, to wonder at it all together, and help one another continue to walk through it. In order to do that, we also need to see disillusionment for what it is.

SG: Tell us about the book’s cover….

The cover design is a hat tip to the Japanese art of kintsugi. It is an art, but also a language of the value of broken pieces, the power and beauty in mending, and the story that it tells. In kintsugi, broken and cracked pieces of pottery are mended with “Japan lacquer” and mixed or dusted with precious metal powder. While we think of a repair as something functional, doing our best to hide a flaw, precious metals such as gold and silver are used in kintsugi to highlight what was broken.

Kintsugi arose from valuing the testimony these broken pieces hold—their service over time, the hands they’ve been in, the humble power of their vocation, the families they belonged to, the artists who created them, and the wear and brokenness over time. Because of this, the broken pieces and cracks were viewed differently. The cracks were the horizons for beauty to emerge, and the mended bowl becomes more valuable than it was before.

I see the art of kintsugi as a picture of the church, Christ’s body, and the hope in our scars. Our scars bear testimony. They are part of a living body that is so valued by God, so much so that he took on a body of flesh so that ours would be eternally resurrected. So much so that we are considered his body. So much so that he gives us his body in sacrament for communion together in the nourishment he gives. The brokenness from others, the cracks and fault lines from our sin, the bumps on the journey of the life of faith, and the wear from the self-sacrifice we give of our sole selves bear witness. God doesn’t want to cover over our scars as if our stories didn’t happen. They are horizons for beauty to emerge, making something new and more valuable than before.

SG: Can you share a high and low in terms of the book’s contents? Something you loved writing and something that was hard to write?

It was difficult to share my personal story of abuse in the church. I wanted to be raw and honest, knowing that so many readers have their own stories. It’s vulnerable, but I didn’t want to minimize the harm done. I also didn’t want to be led by anger or dehumanize those who harmed me. How do I open the door to the kingdom of heaven for all of us in my own storytelling?

And that question is also the highlight for me. It was such a joyful surprise to see how the theme of the eucharist served me in this way. Another highlight and hope for my writing this is to introduce the Song of Songs as a part of God’s word that ministers deeply to us in spiritual trauma. I hope to invigorate more reading of the Song and think that will be life-giving for the church.

Thanks, Aimee, for your good work. And thanks reader, for reading. I highly recommend the book, which I read from cover to cover. You can purchase it or order it wherever books are sold, but here’s an Amazon link, along with a link to her web site for more of her great resources.

Link to Part 1 of this interview

Aimee Byrd’s website

Aimee Byrd’s Substack (I subscribe and endorse)