Unshackled Moments ~ July 13, 2018 ~ The Great Escape

Wednesday afternoon my back got messed up again, and I am grateful.  Yesterday I could barely walk and hurt more than I have in a long time. I had to use my cane when I went out to feed the animals, and carrying that five-gallon bucket of water to the chickens just about did me in. For the first time in my life I probably came more close to resembling my grandfather Joe Woodard than my my mom's dad. The difference is when I watched him slowly walking to feed troughs with a cane in one hand and a bucket or a sack of feed in the other, he was in his sixties and seventies.

I felt like a slow, old man, and I hurt a lot. And, like I said I am grateful. No, it's not because I'm a masochist. I'm not. I hate pain. I spent the vast majority of my life trying to escape pain. in ways that usually ended up only causing more. And no, I am not grateful because I have attained some spiritual level that makes suffering a pleasure or any other such nonsense. Suffering sucks. I still hate it.

No one is going to put St. before my name after I'm gone, and if anyone says at my funeral, "He was a good man," someone please ask them to tell the truth or be quiet.  Hopefully as the years go by, more and more people will mistake me for a good man, but I assure you, I'm not one. It's just that I started spending more time with Jesus and let His Spirit have enough control to start making me more like Him and less like the natural me. Jesus and I love you. But the good you may see in me is all because of Him, I assure you. I'm like the writer who says the great things about what I write are because of help from an excellent editor, and any mistakes are my own. I have an editor who has done a great job at rewriting my character and making me likable and a decent human being.

So, it's not because I suffer well or am so spiritual that I am grateful that I hurt. In fact, I am not grateful I hurt. I wish it would stop. What I am grateful for is that although I haven't had a pain free day in several years now because of a back injury and my back being wrenched Wednesday just made things worse, I am not running for escape. I'm not  mad at God. I'm not giving the Lord of the universe ultimatums about how He better take my pain away now or I'll fix it myself, which is exactly what I did in my teens. I'm not seeking oblivion over suffering. I am enduring. I hurt. I've been hurting. I'm going to rest my back, but I suspect the pain levels will stay at a seven or higher for another day or two. There was a time when this would have been an excuse to escape. I am grateful that is not where I am anymore.

I'm still just a man who is a work in progress. Pain makes it hard for me to think. I don't do my best work when I'm hurting. I may get a little snappy. My tone of voice may not be the nicest. My life's reflection of Jesus may dim as I hurt more. I suspect that is true for many of us.  But I am starting to see how Eliza Edmunds Hewitt could lay in bed for 12 years after a spinal injury and, instead of spewing misery and bitterness, write several time honored hymns of praise. Pain can drive us to Daddy as easily as it can drive us from Him. We can find comfort in His presence, even if the pain remains. It's an awesome thing to learn and discover. I hope you, Dear Reader, are spared serious suffering, but if not, I hope you seek Him in the storm of pain.

You don't have to be a spiritual giant  to get to that place. I'm not one. You just have to reach out and let Daddy take your hand, and He will lead you there. And for those of us with chronic pain, we, like Hewitt, can know and sing the wondrous love of Jesus; sing His mercy and His grace. We can look forward with her to that day when we all get to heaven. What a day of rejoicing that will be. When we all see Jesus, we'll sing and shout the victory.



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