On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
eleven pipers piping…

The eleven pipers piping have traditionally been linked with the eleven remaining apostles—the witnesses who continued after betrayal, loss, and profound failure.

“They all deserted him and fled.”
— Mark 14:50

This is not the story we usually tell.

The apostles misunderstand Jesus again and again. They argue about status. They fall asleep when he asks them to stay awake. When danger comes, they run. One betrays him outright. The others disappear.

And yet, they are not replaced with better people.

Christian faith does not rest on the perfection of its witnesses, but on the faithfulness of God. The eleven are not chosen because they are strong, but because they remain. Bruised. Afraid. Changed.

The image of pipers matters. Pipers do not speak the message; they carry it on breath and rhythm. Their music moves through streets and across distances. It is fragile—easily drowned out—yet persistent.

Broken Theology recognises that faith is passed on like this: imperfectly, inconsistently, through people who know what it is to fail and still be called. Witness is not about certainty, but honesty. Not about authority, but presence.

In a time when trust in leaders—religious, political, cultural—has been deeply damaged, the apostles offer a different kind of credibility. Not credibility rooted in purity, but in repentance. Not in control, but in courage slowly learned.

The story continues not because the witnesses are flawless,
but because they keep telling the truth of what they have seen.

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May your witness rise
from truth told after falling—
grace carried in breath.