(me, WAY back then...)
She and I, in our room on the 2nd floor of the Koinonia House, were having a discussion on stubborn independence verses actually asking for help. That's the moment I said those famous last words:
"I don't want to EVER have to depend on anyone."
In my mind I immediately walked across campus to the 2nd floor of the Rhyne building where I had a class. But it could have been the following day or even later that week. But you know how famous last words seem to hang like a dense fog until the actual event.
In this case, the event happens in the bathroom on the 2nd floor of the Rhyne building just as I am pulling up my jeans. (TMI, right? ...sorry.) The sound my knee made at that moment when I barely turned my leg was excruciating to even the girl in the next stall. My knee twisted by itself completely out of place and back again. Not a sound I ever want to hear again, and definitely not a feeling I would wish on my worse enemy.
The fog of my last words (as well as about 20 years of time gone by) keeps me from remembering the exact nature of my injury that was actually caused by overdoing it on the rowing machine earlier that day and thankfully not from improper dressing technique. :P
There I was, in the bathroom (thankfully dressed) unable to walk, in a great deal of pain, and dependent on the girl in the next stall (a stranger) to help me.
I was on crutches for the next several weeks. I needed someone to carry my tray in the cafeteria for *every* meal. Practicing my French horn meant hobbling across campus to the Music building and asking someone to carry my instrument upstairs to one of the practice rooms. I'm pretty sure I opted for practicing on just the mouthpiece as much as possible during those weeks. I was (am?) that stubborn. There didn't seem to be any activity I could do on my own, in my own strength. I wept often, and hosted a few pity parties even.
My roommate didn't come to my pity parties. Carol often giggled (not snickering, but definitely seeing the humor in God's timing of what He would allow. She remembered my vow, and didn't mind lovingly rubbing it in once or twice with well placed "I told you so's". But even while she giggled, she patiently loved on me, and helped me with all I couldn't do. Our friends also helped often. Strangers on campus held doors, offered to carry things for me, and said encouraging things.
I'm grateful I was part of such a loving community when my knee was injured.
A few years later I heard a wise friend use this passage to show me how stubborn self reliance is like the people Isaiah talks about here.
Isaiah 50:10-11
" Who among you fears the Lord
and obeys the voice of his servant?
Let him who walks in darkness
and has no light
trust in the name of the Lord
and rely on his God.
Behold, all you who kindle a fire,
who equip yourselves with burning torches!
Walk by the light of your fire,
and by the torches that you have kindled!
This you have from my hand:
you shall lie down in torment."
(Check out Larry Crabb's book Connecting for more about firelighters.)
I'm a firelighter. I'd much rather use the light on my phone, or use the light of my own reasoning to see in the dark, rather than gingerly step out into the unknown, trust that I'm going to be cared for in the moment, and trust that God has gone before me. I'd rather take control of what I do know. My sinful nature wants to stay safe inside my little box where I'm in charge of everything in my box.
I hope it's safe to say that back then, I feared rejection so fervently that I didn't want to take even the slightest chance needing anyone.
Maybe this is why I love sunbeams so much now. The warmth of the sun reminds me of how MUCH Jesus delights in stubborn, fearful little me. It reminds me that He's got my back *and* my front; and it reminds me that not only is He *big* enough to handle my 'yuck', but he delights in me and longs to bring warmth and joy.
Isaiah 52:12
" For you shall not go out in haste,
and you shall not go in flight,
for the Lord will go before you,
and the God of Israel will be your rear guard."
Even WAY back then, on crutches, never once, did I ever walk alone.
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