If you talk to anyone that knew me as a young kid, they'd all be able to tell you in some fashion that there wasn't much I really feared. Life, sports, friends all came pretty easy and I embraced them all with a pretty small amount of fear that I'd fail. In fact, that attitude played itself out even in the rough years following my tubing accident on the mountain. Somehow every year I'd start working towards going back to being on the team or riding my horses again. I wasn't broken, just got stalled a little. All those threats the doctors and therapists were giving me were just scare tactics... I knew better. God. I know better.
That's what I've been sadly telling Him recently. I know what would make me happy and content and trust me Lord, this isn't it. I know better. But I've also had some rare moments where I've given it all up. I gave up figuring out how I was going to make life work and I told God, this is all yours because I can't do it. I give up. I had great fear. A feeling I wasn't too familiar with. Fear of failure? Fear of debt so deep there'd be no getting out? Fear of a small life? I'm not sure. But it was scary. To walk into a hospital and tell a surgeon he could slice my neck and a lot of worst case situations could become reality in a matter of a few hours. But we all know the end of that story and I still have some very tender moments with the Lord when He shows me how much He took care of me. How did a bill the size of a few houses get erased to zero? How did I find so many friends to sacrifice their time and money to nurse me back to health? How can I only be a few months out and have absolutely no residual pain? No, I had no control. And that was such a good thing. Yes, I was scared. More scared than I knew what to do with. But I also knew the astounding love of my Father and I knew He wasn't going to let His child go.
But our stories never end. We aren't given one big event in life and then our testimony is over. We live, we move on and we love and we suffer and we always tell the stories of God's greatness and God's love. But once again I have tried so hard to grasp life with a tight fist. It's very easy for me to see this analogy because I now have one good hand, the left non-dominant one, and one bad one, unfortunately the right, dominant one. It works to some extent but the grasp is weak, the fingers aren't real coordinated, and it often doesn't do exactly what I'd like it to do. I say it has a mind of it's own and sometimes it just hurts a lot and reminds me I've used it too much. But most of us like to grasp life like my left hand can do. With full strength and a tight grasp we power through and ask God to somehow enhance that fervor and keep up with us. But the fear has crept back in, and slowly I've switched hands again. Floods of memories have come back to me as chronic pain has become a part of my life again, and I wonder how I made it all those years. God. I'm weak, uncoordinated, and I complain a lot more as you are working my muscles of faithfulness and trust. It's not a fairy tale world and that reality can send you spiraling real quick. Why me? Why must I learn this lesson of faithfulness in the pain, over, and over and over again? And this is when He speaks very softly and replays for me the stories of His faithfulness. And you know the common theme in all those times. I grasped life like I do with my right hand. With a loose grip, but with a whole lot of determination to do things one step at a time. And He goes before us and comes around us and makes a clumsy weak vessel into something very beautiful.
I've got a new herniated disc and a whole new set of problems. But if there's one thing I know right now, this is not just my problem. I am not in control, and that is a great thing. Just five months ago I was on an operating table having given up every ounce of control and I think God wants that very same attitude today and tomorrow. I don't know how to get up in the morning with gladness of heart when I hurt so much. But I will say, again and again, His grace is sufficient for me and His power is made perfect in my weakness. And that doesn't mean I don't get to pray for healing again. It just means I get to rely on Him every step of the way.
Some day He's going to make all things new! Praise the Lord for this Holy Week to remind us all of that!
