If you read the Bible enough times, you begin to see the many parallels and examples of modern day problems throughout the Old and New Testament. Two of my favorite references as of late come from each. In Genesis, we read about how Jacob wrestled with God (poor choice of an opponent, Jacob) and how God (or an angel) essentially dislocated Jacob's hip. The story is too big for this paragraph, but suffice to say, Jacob was running from his problems and God decided it was time for him to stop running.
A few years later, (okay, a lot years later), Paul laments about the "thorn in his flesh" in 2 Corinthians. While he doesn't indicate exactly where, let's just say it was his hip. He asked God several times to remove the thorn, but God uses Paul's pain as an example of faith: "Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.'" 2 Corinthians 12:7-9. Now, the connotation here may not be of a physical nature, but a spiritual one. However, I think we've all experienced physical, emotional and spiritual pain one time or another and wondered why God didn't hear our prayers for relief. Here's the thing about grace; it must be accepted.
So, if you're wondering about the X-ray at the top of this post, it's mine. Specifically, my left hip. It doesn't take a radiologist to see that the head of my femur has taken up residence in my hip socket. This is what happens with open boarders. (It's a joke, lighten up). Anyway, I've been dealing with this for a long time, probably too long. Definitely too long. I remember the day my hip started to bother me...I was finishing a run and started to sprint a little and felt something "pop." At the time I thought I pulled a muscle. Now, I think that "pop" was the last bit of cartilage separating the two bones. Of course, ego is a terrible thing to waste, so I just "kept ruuunneng." Note the Forrest Gump reference. It was just an annoyance at first, kind of like a thorn in your side, so to speak. After a year or so, I had an MRI, a possible treatment plan and a way out. Then, life took a few turns.
For various reasons, some good, some silly, I have avoided surgery. I've tried to PT my way out, strength train my way out, karate my way out and meditate my way out. And while all of these may have prolonged the inevitable, there comes a time to say, "Cut me, Mick." First Rocky movie. How do I know it's time, you ask? Well, if I had to run away from a burning building, I'd look like a dude with one foot in a bucket of cement. I used to have a pretty descent side kick...now, whenever I try to raise my left leg, I look like a dog peeing on a very small bush. Whenever I get into a compact car, its like being lowered from a helicopter. I was in the Kroger parking lot the other day and some old guy offered me his cane...ok, just kidding, but you get the idea. It's time.
But I'm kind of glad I've waited this long. While the pain and immobility have steadily worsened over the years, I've been forced to have a different prospective. As a clinician, this experience gave me a better idea of what some of my patients went through and affected my approach. I developed a new appreciation for strength and conditioning that will impact the rest of my life. And martial arts training, specifically karate for me, has really changed. The inability to perform a lot of the flashy kicks and spins forced me to explore basic techniques and kata in a way that I may not have otherwise. Through this weakness, I have been able to find strength, at least in other ways.
I've said it before, but pain is a very important part of life. We've developed all kinds of ways to avoid it, mask it, or in my case, ignore it. And the question remains, why does a kind and loving God allow us to feel pain and suffering? Well, for a couple reasons, I think. First, this place is not home. It's a stopover, a weight station. That's why people who seek pleasure at the expense of their souls are in for a rude awaking. Second, God's perfection is made known through our weakness. For in the depth of despair, we cry out to God, beat our chests or the ground. There are the clouds, the storm, the bitter silence...and eventually, the sun comes out. The Son comes...offering grace that must be accepted before it is realized. We're too proud to reach this understanding on our own. All of us, at some point, must be brought to our knees. It doesn't matter how you get there or how long it takes. That's what the cross is all about.
So, I'm going to have surgery pretty soon. The surgeon failed to see the humor in my comment about jogging home from the procedure. "Lighten up, Doc...it was a joke." I bet I could rollerblade home though...
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
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