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.