Those reflections also offered up a slice of hope for me. By focusing on The Good I could quantify each day the small 'wins' that I experienced. Noting The Bad I could see how I was checking off each necessary next step.
But absent in those daily updates was the theological learning that was taking place in me. Not to worry, I did not shelf the Almighty as I relearned how to bend my knee and endure tremendous pain in doing so. . . Far from it. Instead, held those encounters with my God close at hand, and by doing so, my learning continued long after the initial instance.
The first lesson was vulnerability. . .
On Wednesday my at-home therapist Brittany told m that PT stood for Pain and Torture and that she would be pushing me hard. You see if she didn't push hard then I would end up with a limp that could not be corrected in just a couple weeks. That was not going to happen to me. I struggled through her routine but I completed it and so I wrongly thought that I could do this.
Not so fast, my friend. . . The following day as Jennifer sat on the hearth next to my chair and encouraged and pressed me toward success, it wasn't happening. I couldn't do it. I couldn't connect my mind to my quad and make it work. Not even one time. My foot would twitch in rebellion but for that first day it didn't work.
The emotions were bubbling. The pain increasing. I was not frustrated or angry but something else was happening. Tears flowed down both cheeks as Jennifer continued to press and encourage me. Through a cracked voice I could only must the word, 'can't.' Then I would tuck my face back under my shirt and weep.
In love Jennifer called for Emma while she held my foot in neutral and said, 'I think I broke you dad." She didn't. . .
From that evening on, I would climb from my recliner to the dinning room chair they brought me for work. As I sat down I would whimper, 'I can't. . . I have to' back and forth as I got ready.
Finally after 3 days of intense pain I knew what I had to do. Grabbing my iPhone, I slowly shuffled through my music until I found what would help me. I needed to hear reminders of how in my weakness, regardless of how that is defined, God is close at hand.
Using the words of John Cooper, PT became a time of silent confession to God and worship before Him. Here are some of the lyrics that became prayers for me:
"I need a Hero to save my life."
"A hero's not afraid to give his life, a hero is going to save me just in time."
OR
"When I need to be saved, you're making' me strong, your'e making me stand. . . You (God) make me feel invincible. . . "
On and on it would go. Song after song I would quietly sing in my heart to the God who saves me and strengthens me. The tears still fall. The pain is still there but because I allowed myself to engage the spiritual vulnerability, communion was possible for me.
Now I know you are not likely going to have PT as I do this week. And I know that you probably aren't in physical pain right now. . . But we all need to embrace the vulnerability that comes as we learn how deeply we need God. I am still learning those lessons and later today as I climb into my chair again to make my knee work, Skillet will again be pounding out their music on my speaker and yet my heart will be still because in my vulnerability He is strong.
I wonder, if you can find a similar place in your day to express your vulnerability to God? What might happen and how might it bless you when you need it most?
Blessings
Rev. Derek
No comments:
Post a Comment