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inda and
I are blessed to be the parents of three healthy happy children. Words cannot capture my feelings of joy and
gratitude when I saw Elizabeth, then Joshua, then Andrew for the first time and
saw that they were whole and well. Some
weeks after Joshua's birth, however, we discovered a problem with his
feet. Joshua's feet were not
straight--they were turned in rather badly.
We were troubled by what this could mean to his future, not wanting
anything to impede his walk.
At the advice of our pediatrician, we
waited a couple of months to see if the problem would correct itself, but it
did not. We then sought the help of an
orthopedic specialist. After a thorough
examination, he gave us some good news; Joshua's walk could be straightened
out. Then came the bad news--this change
would not come that day in the doctor's office.
His walk could not be straightened with a pill or even a shot. Joshua's walk would be straightened only
through weeks of stretching exercises, several sets of casts, orthopedic
shoes, and several months of sleeping in shoes bolted to a
brace.
During
those weeks and months of treatment, especially on those nights when I bolted that
brace on to those little shoes on those little feet, I felt both the promise of
blessing my son's life and the pain of burdening his life. Sometimes the pain felt stronger than the
promise. I asked myself more than once, "Will this brace make enough difference
to be worth the bother?"
Months passed and Joshua no longer needed
to wear his brace. Those shortened naps
and restless nights were over. As I look
back upon the cost and benefit of that brace, I can answer my question with a
new perspective. "Was the brace
worth the trouble? Just look at the
difference it made in his walk!"
Many of us have mixed feelings when we hear
the call to grow in Christ through a personal devotional life. We see that our walk is not what it could or
should be. We do not want to fall short
of what God has created us to be. We are
excited to hear the good news that our walk can be straightened, our lives can
be changed for the better, we can fulfill the purpose for which God has given
us life. But then comes the bad
news. Our walk is not straightened out
with one prayer or one trip to the altar.
Our walk is not even corrected by a weekly appearance at a house of
worship. Our walk is only straightened
out by a long process--a costly commitment to a lifestyle of study, reflection
and application of God's Word. As we
undertake this kind of life, we feel both the promise of a better life and the
demand of the process of attaining it.
We ask ourselves, "Will this ‘brace’
of my spiritual walk make enough difference to be worth the work?"
I still have Joshua's orthopedic
brace. He doesn't use it anymore, but I
do. The excuse I give Linda for not
throwing it away is that I can, with Joshua's permission, use it as an object
lesson for a children's sermon. But
mostly, I keep it as a reminder of the cost and the reward of a life of
discipleship. I keep it to remind me
that if I really want to straighten out my crooked walk, I must do for myself
what I did for Joshua. I must stretch my
mind through study. I must live in an
orthopedic attitude of prayer--an attitude which will constantly bend my thoughts
and feelings in a God-ward direction.
And I must strap on the brace of God's Word which will align my heart
with the heart of God. No, I'll never
throw that little brace away. Why
not? Because every time I saw Joshua
perform with his school’s jump-rope team or fast-break down the basketball
court or round third base on his way to home, or take a walk with dad, and
remember the price he paid to straighten out his feet for those feats, I learned
a great lesson all over again. The
promise is worth the pain. The reward is
worth the regimen. The blessing is worth
the brace.
This story is taken from my new book, Led By a Child: Truths My Children Have Taught Me About God. Click here to learn more.