From The Desk of David

If I must be honest, I don’t want to write the following words. Writing these words will make it all real and in slight delusions in which I’m still grasping to, I am writing this from my dorm room, still surrounded by friends with the life moving forth with no interruptions. That isn’t the case. Reality is, I am sitting at home in North Carolina, penning this with mixed emotions of frustration and anger. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be writing this. But I am. Life doesn’t go the way we plan it and at times the Lord redirects us for another purpose. So here I go, kicking and screaming as He’s dragging me onto a better purpose. It’s foolish I know. It’s stupid. His ways are higher than mine however, my broken humanity just wants to be heard. I guess that’s why I’m writing this. To let to my humanity be heard. To lay aside the “church answers,” and be vulnerable and honest.

The news wasn’t what I wanted. And I knew it wouldn’t be once the doctor walked in, smiled, shook my hand, and flashed me that peculiar look – the look they always do. The look that reads, “how are you even walking right now without any viable knee structure?” But this look seems to last a little longer this time. I would proceed to begin explaining my situation in an attempt to break the awkward silence. I did not want the look to linger on because if it did I knew that I would realize my knees were as bad as they are. It wasn’t long before the news was delivered. But, was it news? It didn’t feel like it. It felt as if someone had taken a dagger and stabbed me in the gut, causing the world to spin in slow motion for just a moment. “You’re going to need surgery.” was the name of the dagger that stabbed me in the heart. And if that wasn’t enough, said the surgery would require a six-month recovery period. Sure, I’ll get to walk out of surgery on my own two feet. I’ll get to resume a normal life, or perhaps a different version of it as soon as I leave. But here’s what I shall not get… I will not get to return to Liberty University this year. Sure, thanks to technology I’ll be able to take my academic courses online and for that I am grateful. But what to the online courses lack are the smiling faces of the people who live on my floor, they lack the brilliant colors of red, yellow, and orange that will paint the mountains in Lynchburg, Virginia, it lacks friends that I’ve grown so near and dear to, it lacks surprising moments when friends bring you unexpected cups of coffee, it lacks explorations up the side of mountains, and I could go on and on.

So, what do I do? That’s the question I’ve been asking myself for the past few weeks. I could sit and wallow in the misery of unexpected circumstances, something I’m finding to be easier to do lately. Or, perhaps I could shove all these emotions down inside and tell the world that I’m fine sitting in a wheelchair when two months ago I was walking around with the largest campuses in the world. What to do? What to do with my broken humanity and its desire to be heard and justified through its reaction to these unexpected circumstances? Do I deny my humanity its voice or do I let it run wild? That’s the real question I’ve been facing. Because right now with my humanity and the plans of The Father seem to be at odds and I’m having trouble submitting.

Someone else had trouble submitting too. I found myself sympathizing with the prophet Jonah as he sits in the belly of the whale. Did you like being in the belly of the whale? Of course not! Did he know where the whale was going? I’d like to think he did. I would like to think that as he sat in that disgusting, smelly animal, he knew the jig was up. He knew there was no more running away from the calling of the Lord and placed upon his life. He knew he was going to Nineveh and there was nothing he could do to change it. Perhaps, I’ve been running from something. If you had to ask, I’m sure I could give you a long list of things I need to work on and maybe that is why this season has come. Perhaps this is a time for me to not only physically heal, but to also heal spiritually.

Do I like it? No. Sure, I enjoy seeing my church friends and my family but my heart still lies in Lynchburg. Just as I am sure Jonah still wished he was on that boat going in the opposite direction. But something I’m learning is that at times the Lord demands we lay aside our humanity… Our emotions so that His plans and glorification may be furthered. I used to think that the Lord was always monitoring my emotions – ensuring that they were never hurt. Because isn’t that what a good father does? I bought into the lie that the word, “good” meant that He would never allow my feelings to be hurt my ego to be bruised.  But that is not what being a good father is. Being a good father is knowing that at times your children will endure hardships and even pain because sometimes when we experience hardships, we cling to Jesus even more. Pain is an indicator of a problem and at times, our pain will bring us to the Ultimate Healer.

Jesus, I been like a toddler – kicking and screaming as a being dragged away to deal with the issue at hand. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve thrown a temper tantrum. But more importantly, I’m sorry for not trusting you. Teach me, mold me. Dissect me and throw out anything that is unfit so that I can be the best servant of You that I can be. Even in this hard time, may my song continue to be, “it is well with my soul.”

To all those cared for me over the past few months I’ve been in pain and unable to get around, thank you for your willingness to serve me. To those who have been prayer warriors for me, please keep on praying that I will grow more obsessed with Jesus Christ during this time. To those who have sent words of encouragement my way, your words were what carried me through my frustration. To those who have read these words, thank you for allowing me to be so vulnerable.

For His Glory,

David