Really, now, who wants to be uncomfortable?
Back around Thanksgiving of last year, some of you consistent readers might recall that I broke my left shoulder. I took a vertical dive onto a brick sidewalk. I was spared from surgery, thank God. I went through weeks of physical therapy, which was a joy. Not. I knew I had to do it, and I was compliant. “Uncomfortable” doesn’t even come close to expressing how it felt.
At home I slept in a reclining chair for weeks. I had to buttress my left arm up with pillows. There was one elusive position I could get in that would keep me from being totally uncomfortable. Once I got hunkered down, I avoided moving.
I missed my left arm. I’m left-handed, so that was a real inconvenience. Limited mobility? I couldn’t reach around behind my back to get my wallet. Getting dressed was a crazy challenge, since I couldn’t easily raise my arm above my head. And I need to mention bruised ribs, too – while they weren’t broken, they might as well have been. It hurt to breathe, and a cough or sneeze would set me wailing.
Those were uncomfortable days. Know what, though? I’m still uncomfortable, even after all this time.
The good doc at Mississippi Sports Medicine has been all chipper and upbeat about all this. He said I was doing fine, that nature would take its course, and that I’d be back up to speed by July 4 or so. That’s insane. Healing shouldn’t take that long, but by golly, it does.
Getting out of bed? Because I can’t push off with my left arm, I have to roll over on my side, kick back the covers, and sling my legs off in tandem. The leverage I get from that helps me sit up, without having to use my arms much. It’s a sight to behold,I can assure you.
Even as I’m sitting here tapping away at a keyboard, I’m aware of my messed-up shoulder. If I nurse it, I’m okay, but sometimes just the wrong move, the wrong reach, and I am acutely aware that there’s still some healing to do.
But being uncomfortable has proven to be a pretty decent life lesson.
With my extraordinary gift of being able to torture a metaphor, here’s what I’m learning.
- God enjoys seeing me uncomfortable. It’s because He didn’t call me to be comfortable. If we’re comfortable, chances are that we’re passive, too. We aren’t doing anything to get us out of that venerable comfort zone.
- He wants me to trust Him completely. If I’m comfortable, then I’m less likely to take risks. I’m not talking about mindless risk-taking. I’m talking about being happily discontent to the extent that I don’t “settle.”
- He wants me to be unafraid to put myself in situations where I’ll be in trouble if He doesn’t come through.
I need to unpack that last statement just a little.
As believers, it’s really easy to play it safe spiritually. We can work on our personal relationship to God, nurturing ourselves, and be all content when we’ve checked all the boxes.
I’m stating that God can engineer circumstances in which we’ll be very uncomfortable. It’s when things don’t make sense, and our reason crashes into a wall, that we are desperate to have some direction and counsel from God.
Problem is, we like to be self-sufficient. We think that will keep us from being uncomfortable. After all, we subconsciously think that we can master our own fates.
“I got this” is the phrase we love to use. Well, my experience has shown me that I just think I got this.
To be uncomfortable spiritually is evidence that we’re looking to our own understanding rather than letting God order our steps. I think discomfort expands exponentially to put us in an attitude of dependence. We’ll be uncomfortable as long as we try to run the show. I hate to disillusion you, but we just aren’t that good at managing our own lives.
So – I think God gets a holy kick out of making sure that we don’t become too at ease. I think He wants us to be brave enough, by His grace, to put ourselves in situations in which He has to come through or we’re sunk.
That’s part of the adventure of being a believer. We position ourselves – or allow ourselves – to be put in a place where God gets to be God. It’s a real treat to step back, slack-jawed, and acknowledge that what just happened was a God-thing, unexplainable by any other circumstance.
Being uncomfortable is a gift. It keeps us from stagnating. It puts us on the frontiers of what God wants to do in us and through us.
It took a broken shoulder for me to understand it. Maybe you’ll get it without having to fracture something.
Talk later!