I needed to visit the chiropractor.
The tweak in my back wasn’t going away by itself. It was right in the center, all the way down at my waistline. It was more nuisance than discomfort, but ignoring it wasn’t making it better. I mentally scheduled a brief trip to visit Dr. Foster in the morning.
The past two months have been enormously rewarding but physically punishing. While the impact the prayer garden is having on the city is amazing, its construction was difficult. Manually handling truckloads of cement, mulch, rocks, and brick seemed unending. Digging trenches was just as brutal.
At the same time, I had been chipping down a stump in the backyard, trying to get it level with the ground. I loved pounding away at it with my ancient, dull mattox. I was also splitting the logs that were stacked against the back fence, getting them ready for Erin to burn once the cool autumn air sets in. The ornamental trees had curvy grain making their logs hard to split, and that had taken a toll on my back also.
It was exhausting and had left me a little chipped around the edges, but the simple truth is that I loved every minute of it. There were days when I felt like I could do anything, that I had no limits. I was excited each time I drove my old pickup to get another load of materials. I snuck out of the house before Kim would know I was gone to beat on the stump or split a few pieces of wood that weren’t needed for months. To each his own, and I had found my happy place.
Smiling with satisfaction as I reflected on the abuse I had absorbed recently, it struck me that I shouldn’t have been able to finish any of this. For the past year and a half, The Great Fatigue had overshadowed my life. For 18 long months, unexplained tiredness had spread through my body making simple tasks too burdensome to consider attempting.
Losing my previously unending fountain of energy was an enormous blow. The running and workouts that had always helped me to find peace immediately stopped. Eventually, I couldn’t imagine walking around the block, moving furniture, or navigating other small tasks. Sometimes it was too much to survive a full day at the office.
I saw doctors and prayed for healing. I yelled at God to give me my life back. I was alternately in denial, full of anger and simply depressed. None of it gave me what I wanted.
My dance through life slowed to a crawl.
I didn’t go down without a fight. I stubbornly kept trying to do things my body told me weren’t going to happen. The more I fought, the worse I felt. The worse I felt, the more I fought back. Working hard was more than just my passion, it was my style and a major part of my identity. I considered it a gift from God and held on as tightly as possible while it evaporated through my fingers.
Gradually, I accepted that this might be who I am now. My hours at full speed were replaced by long stretches sitting in my recliner. Instead of focusing on the activities in front of me, I became more attentive to what was going on around me.
My mom’s health was rapidly deteriorating. Unable to hide behind neverending activities, I took time to consider why she was special to me. Her passion for living in the moment inspired me to carry on her tradition. She may not be with us anymore, but her legacy is still teaching me how to be a better person.
Erin got engaged and then married. Without any of my own obsessions competing with her agenda, I was able to focus on the details of her big day. Hopefully, she had the wedding of her dreams, but even if it wasn’t perfect, she knows that I poured myself into her event. Every day since then, I have tried to give her emotional support, knowing that I can’t do everything for her anymore.
Kelly, Preston, and I were always too busy to spend time together alone, just as brothers and sisters. With big changes befalling our families, we needed each other. The calendar I had kept full was suddenly empty and we took time for our first Sibling Weekend. The tattoos may be our most visible reminder, but the connections we re-established are the most valuable.
When COVID began to rage, it shocked the nation by stealing its busyness. Already isolated in my own exhaustion, I was able to focus on opening our home as a place of worship for friends. Others moaned about what they had lost, but we rejoiced, celebrating Jesus and our friendships. I rediscovered the intimacy of the church when the large gatherings shut down.
Instead of racing out to build the next thing or chase the latest dream, I’ve had a lot more time to consider what is important to me and who I want to become. Making Waves has grown by fifty-five posts in this season’s quiet, spirit-filled moments. I have focused on being honest and transparent about my walk with Jesus, reaching people across the country. The closeness I’ve enjoyed with my God is a reward far more valuable than anything I’ve had to give up.
In his wisdom, God knew that my unbridled enthusiasm would have been an obstacle in a season that needed quiet reflection. Ironically, I was strongest because he made me weak.
I would like to believe that I am more mature now and able to discern when it is time to pour myself out physically or lean into others emotionally. I am not though. During my two months of physical strength, my obsessive focus returned allowing me to make tremendous progress on the project in front of me but losing the contemplative nature that marked the previous months.
In some ways, I am weaker when he makes me strong.
The Apostle Paul made the same observation. Just like I have prayed without ceasing for him to restore me, Paul prayed for God to “remove the thorn in his flesh”. Paul was focused on himself, but God had bigger plans for him. For however long it was needed, the thorn reminded him of his reliance on God, made him humble, and allowed God to guide his path.
I am gaining a better Paul’s two paradoxical statements. When his prayers for strength were denied, God’s message to him matched The Great Fatigue.
” My power works best in weakness.” (2 Cor 12:9)
In a different season, he was in high spirits and rejoiced
“I can do everything through Christ who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:13)
None of us knows what is coming around the corner. Our next divine moment may require all of the strength we can summon or maybe it will be best to sit powerlessly and rely on faith alone. Strength and weakness are a matter of perspective.
Although it is impossible to predict what will be required of us, we can put our faith in the Father to provide what we need. Sometimes that will require a mighty gift. Other times will require clearing space in our lives.
His grace is all we need.
I am overwhelmingly thankful for what God has accomplished through me. I am learning to accept my situation, whether in plenty or little and instead focus on my purpose in the moment. Both in strength & weakness, may my life be to his glory.
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“I am learning to accept my situation,” you said. This statement struck a cord with me because I feel like the perpetual student in my walk with Jesus. I’m “always” learning (or being taught a lesson).
It’s like the stretching never stops whether it’s self inflicted or by unforeseen events. But I guess that’s a good thing bc it means I’m alive and ABBA isn’t done with me. I don’t ever wanna be status quo in my relationship with Jesus. I may rest but in my rest I will declare his Faithfulness. In my busyness I will praise him for what he has given me. In my times of sadness I will trust him. In ALL things I will give him thanks and praise. To God be the glory!