Witness Marks

My husband loves old clocks. I’ll admit, that seems romantic, but when he brought his first antique clock purchase home, I was a bit perplexed. The thing was beautiful, a mantel clock made of ebony hard wood and engraved with filigree. As it was built around 1910, it required care by way of weekly winding. He was instructed to turn two keys, one clockwise, the other, counterclockwise. If he could keep up a disciplined schedule of weekly winding, the clock kept pretty good time and chimed on the regular hour markers. If he forgot to wind the clock, well, she sat uselessly on the piano where she was meant to keep time.

Aaron is quite disciplined and wound the clock regularly. On the occasion that he forgot his weekly duty and the clock fell behind, he would meticulously work the keys and direct the hands back to where they needed to be to keep time. One Sunday evening, Aaron went to take his turn winding the clock only to find it broken. The hands of the clock no longer responded to the turning of the keys. When we removed the back of the clock, exposing the inner workings, we discovered an important piece, the coiled mainspring, was fractured. We had no clue how to fix it or where to find someone who could. Aaron was so disappointed, and that made me sad; he was so proud of that clock and how through his sheer determination, he had kept it running. 

Eventually, and I have no idea how long it took him or by what means he came by the information, Aaron did find a repairman to fix the old clock. The shop was in a small, rust-colored brick building on a crowded corner of the Main Street in Holiday, Utah. The inside was filled with clocks of every kind: tall grandfather clocks, noisy cuckoo clocks, fine pendulum clocks under fragile glass domes, even a few silly Felix-the-Cat clocks with their tails swinging back and forth to keep time.

The clerk at the counter took that beautiful-but-broken mantel clock off our hands, warning that it could take up to a year for the repairs. “You have to understand, we don’t have an owner’s manual for clocks this old,” she explained. “The clock will have to be taken apart and examined before we know the what’s and how’s of the repairs it needs." 

“And I have to warn you that sometimes we just can’t find the parts for these old clocks," she added. "Sometimes the only option is to have them rebuilt.”

In the art of clock repair, when there are no instructions to follow, repairmen follow what are called witness marks--tiny marks, faint scratches, screw holes, even missing pieces and the like that can be used to help guide the way in future fixes. Sometimes these markings are intentional, placed there by other clock builders or repairmen. Sometimes they are the result of prior injury, but when viewed with a trained eye can be used as a guide.

Through heart transplant and thyroid cancer, surgeons have left plenty of visible witness marks on and within my body. Fifty years of living have left me with innumerable witness marks on my soul. Many times I have been brought to what I believed to be my breaking point; life is full of them. Now, I don't believe that God gives us trials--I believe life is just inherently hard, brutal sometimes. And for some, unspeakable, even. But, I do believe that these hard, brutal, and unspeakable things can be used for good and can become blessings. 

In a recent conference talk by President Henry B. Eyring titled "Proved and Strengthened in Christ", I was drawn to the scripture Philippians 4:13. Who is not familiar with this scripture? I didn't even need to look it up to recall the words. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." What a beautiful sentiment! What a beautiful blessing to receive so much grace, goodness, and strength from our Savior!

But then I went back to the KJV Bible and reread Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me."

Which, not who. Which. It's an important distinction. I can't tell you how many times I've felt so low, so devastated, that in the darkness, I've wondered where in this mess is He who has promised strength in my weakness? If it's Christ who strengthens me, where is He now when I need Him most?

It is in these moments, feeling alone, we can choose to turn away from Christ, or turn to Him. And in this act of turning to find Christ, in this choice to believe in Him, we find strength. 

It is in the doing that our faith is strengthened. It is the act of believing still and turning to Christ which strengthens us.  He is with us--as always--and He is inviting us "take my yoke upon you, for my yoke is easy and my burden light."

This is the great initiation. This is the school where we learn to consecrate that which feels entirely unholy to our greater good and learning. There, in the trial where we are stripped bare, opened up and taken apart, we can be strengthened and our grieving can be met with love and wisdom. And when Christ has healed us, like the skilled clock repairman, He will have left His witness mark.