The day has finally come. I am walking!
Well, I guess you can call it walking. I am waddling in a walking boot. Sort of like Frankenstein moving in a ski boot. But it is progress. Major progress. And I am happy to have some aspect of freedom again. The simple ability to carry a book and walk at the same time is a wonderful thing. I never thought that such a basic ability would mean so much to me. I guess I’ve always taken walking for granted…ever since I learned it 39 years ago.
The transition to walking began on Thursday at physical therapy. My walking boot was adjusted from a 10 degree decline to a neutral setting. It actually took two therapists about 15 minutes to figure out how to do this on this particular boot but eventually they got it done.
Next began my baby steps.
The therapist gave me one crutch, held onto the back of my pants, and slowly retaught me how to walk.
I thought I knew how. After all, it is only walking. But in the course of eight weeks, I had forgotten how to use my muscles and had developed some bad habits on the crutches as well.
First, I sort of hopped. I was afraid to put full weight on my Achilles so I moved in short spurts, hopping on my good foot and sort of dragging my bad foot along.
The therapist stopped this and told me to go heel to toe on my foot.
My next effort was still stilted because I was bending my left knee too much and not straightening my leg as I made my stride. She corrected this and then I overcompensated by locking my knee as I walked.
Finally…after taking about thirty faulty steps…and after telling the therapist that she was starting to give me a wedgie as she held me up by my pants…I relearned the stride and started to walk.
The funny thing was that the other people in therapy started to congratulate me and cheer me on. It felt like one of those big moments…like a man walking on the moon…or a bunch of excited parents watching a toddler take his first steps.
It was sort of neat experiencing this little “fellowship of the suffering.”
I have been in therapy three times a week for two and a half weeks. I have become a “regular” of sorts. And I have gotten to know many of my fellow “therapees” (is that a word?). The bartender after knee surgery…the accountant with the neck pain…the union worker recovering from back surgery…and a host of others with heating pads wrapped around their shoulders, knees, necks, or ankles.
The fellowship of the suffering.
Our conversations begin pretty much the same. “So what did you do?” “Did you have surgery?” “Is it getting any better?” “How long you got?” Like we are all prisoners waiting for our release date.
The common experience of suffering opens the door and then further conversation ensues. Despite all our differences, we are still human beings experiencing our weakness and frailty firsthand, seeking to get better, and encouraging each other in the process.
Why isn’t the church more like this?
I thought the other day, “Should the church really be seen as spiritual therapy?”
Okay, the word “therapy” sometimes has negative connotations in today’s world but it is actually a biblical word.
Therapeuo. Used in the New Testament 44x. Meaning “to heal, to cure, to bring back to health.” Of course, it is primarily used to refer to physical healing but there are certainly spiritual implications as well.
We are all sinners. We are all spiritually suffering. We all have a “ruptured Achilles” that we can’t repair on our own.
Christ is the Great Physician who performs the surgery. And then in the body of Christ, the church, we learn once again how to walk…encouraging each other and cheering each other on as we take baby steps in faith.
Perhaps we don’t experience the “fellowship of the suffering” because we pretend we are not suffering. We pretend we have it all together. We forget our weakness. And we fail to confess our sins to one another and pray for each other so that we may be healed (James 5:16a).
Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his classic Life Together noted:
It is possible that Christians may remain lonely in spite of daily worship together, prayer together, and all their community through service—that the final breakthrough to community does not occur precisely because they enjoy community with one another as pious believers, but not with one another as those lacking piety, sinners. For the pious community permits no one to be a sinner. Hence all have to conceal their sins from themselves and from the community. We are not allowed to be sinners. …So we remain alone in our sin, trapped in lies and hypocrisy, for we are in fact sinners. However, the grace of the gospel, which is so hard for the pious to comprehend, confronts us with the truth. It says to us, you are a sinner, a great, unholy sinner. Now come, as the sinner that you are, to your God who loves you. …The mask you wear in the presence of other people won’t get you anywhere in the presence of God.
Only those who recognize their sickness go to the doctor (cf. Luke 5:31). Only those who see their sin come to Jesus. And only those who know they are crippled and who want to walk again, go to therapy.
