My Easter Miracle

Lent aims to provide a space for reflection on the sacrifice and death of Jesus. These weeks prepare us for the full triumph and victory of Easter.

This year my Lent involved a deepened solidarity with suffering. My foot required minor surgery, and although the out patient procedure passed quickly, the recovery did not. Unlike others who found recuperation a minor setback of a week or maybe two, for the next four weeks I could not walk. Two weeks in I tried hobbling around for the weekend, a time frame that most estimates proposed reasonable. That Sunday night I lay in bed trying to sleep with pain throbbing in my foot and wishing I hadn't left my hated yet beloved crutches downstairs.

I returned to my crutches or the knee scooter a friend loaned me, but would still lie in bed each night waiting for the pain to subside and let me sleep. Unlike the sharp pain initially or of the original problem, this felt like pressure, as if someone held my foot and wouldn't let go, squeezing like a pinch between finger and thumb.

During these weeks I kept thinking of those who don't recover, whose surgeries fail, or who even despite an effort at treatment continue to worsen, those for whom time instead of bringing healing continues a downhill march. Crutching to the bathroom in the middle of the night I reminded myself this temporary problem already allowed more independence than those paralyzed.

The fourth weekend I had returned from a trip and found the pain as bad as ever. That Palm Sunday I again preached from a chair, as I had for four weeks. I normally stand in front of the pulpit to preach, close to the people. I told God I would really like to stand to preach on Easter. At that moment such a result seemed unlikely, as slow as my progress had been, that seemed too much for just one week to bring. I also wished I could wear shoes and not my bedroom slipper, but that came from vanity, not purpose.

On Tuesday I began to hobble on my heel. Thursday for the first time I squeezed into a loose clog, not an Easter shoe, but not a house slipper at least.

On this Good Friday I am calling my progress my Easter Miracle. I will stand and preach on Easter, even if my shoes are not white dress shoes. A week ago I didn't really think this was possible, but with God all things are possible. Perhaps it seems ordinary, my foot had to improve at some point. But for me, and how I experienced it, and the trajectory of my healing to this point, it will always be my Easter Miracle.

I pray God steps into your brokenness on this Good Friday and in the days to come and brings resurrection power to bear on your pain. For truly, Christ lives, and that changes everything.

Walking is Underrated

Having a one year old granddaughter I have recently witnessed the advent of walking in a child. She stood, wavering, falling. She soon took a step or two. Later a streak of steps, weaving left and right, before again falling. At first she required an object to pull up on to stand and begin, then later developed the ability to stand from the floor. Her walking at 13 months still wavers on uneven ground, and falling still happens frequently, although she gains speed daily.

When babies learn to walk, we expect such stops and starts. Once we have mastered it, we never think about it. This morning as you awakened, you didn't think about putting your feet on the floor and heading off to the bathroom or wherever you start your day.

Walking is underrated and underappreciated. Until you can't walk.

Two weeks ago before writing this I underwent a foot surgery, a minor out patient procedure to remove a neuroma (a benign tumor) from the ball of my foot. The presence of the neuroma had caused pain while walking for about and year and a half, and to maintain a healthy walking habit, needed to be excised. And in come the crutches.

A few years ago I severely sprained my ankle and required a season of crutching, which I abhorred. My son can travel on crutches and keep up with anyone, even on stairs. I have a stair phobia from falling down a staircase at church as a child and gaining a black eye, so I'm not about to do a staircase on crutches. I scoot down and up on my bottom. So elegant.

Having to crutch to the bathroom in the middle of the night, when I often weave on two good feet, and negotiate all that with one foot, makes me long for healing, yesterday even. So when I was able to again put some weight on my recovering heel, I did so. Finally! No crutches!

After a weekend of that, I returned to my crutches, as the foot pain wouldn't let me sleep. More healing needed, and more patience.

During this season of restriction, I have reminded myself that some people never heal. They live permanently in a wheelchair or have prosthetic limbs. Some folks older and weaker than me can't use crutches for a minor recovery. For some people, the fullness of healing and easy movement won't return until heaven's final healing.

I want to keep my eyes open for those around me battling various obstacles to their daily travel, perhaps I can open a door or at least smile some encouragement. Walking can be more than just physical as well, some folks struggle to progress in other ways, spiritual, developmental, patience can be needed from the rest of us to encourage the strugglers to not give up.

One of my favorite gospel moments happens when the four friends lower the paralyzed man through the roof to get Jesus' attention. Jesus doesn't immediately heal him. It's so obvious they expected this for their friend. But instead Jesus forgives him, clearly more important for the man than walking. To prove he could forgive sins, Jesus tells the man to stand up and walk. No crutches needed, no mat, no friends to carry him, imagine! But the greater gift that day lie in the forgiveness.

So too despite whatever we or others face physically, the greater challenge lies in spiritual wholeness. Even if we can't get out of bed or off that stretcher, our hearts can be healed and cleansed. That's what mattered to Jesus.