They say you cannot remember pain.
I say… they have never torn their calf muscle and plantar fasciitis.
I still have nightmares about it. I liken it to a Charlie-horse that gave way.
Or to a gunshot wound.
I remember the song playing: Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leopard. I remember the choreography, I had made up on the fly. I remember I still smelled of chlorine, having just taught two water aerobics classes back to back, immediately after teaching a spin class.
I remember the instructor who said, “Are you sure? I can take it; I just need to leave about 10 minutes early?”
“No, go ahead!” I chimed.
The noon kickboxing class was one I hadn’t ever taught. As the director of the group exercise program, I prided myself on being able to teach almost anything. But, I wasn’t prideful at the moment that I blew out my calf and arch.
Two pops felt deep within my soul were the alarms that echoed in my bones.
One of the ladies asked if I was okay.
I smiled, sweat pooling and vomit rising in my throat. “Yes. I just need a second.”
I kept teaching, with verbal cues. The room spun and searing pain was my new companion.
I could be the poster child for “Pride Goeth before the Fall.”
10 months later, 45 pounds heavier I could still reach target heart rate and beyond – just by the mind games I played with myself.
[Tweet “I could be the poster child for “Pride Goeth before the Fall.””]
Need I go on?
Let me know if you need any more adjectives.
Steroid shots, pain killers, and Pita chips seemed to be my new routine. When I finally was released from wearing the hottest and most uncomfortable orthotic boot on the planet I put on new running shoes and headed out the front door for a walk/jog, determined to capture the wellness I had adored. At the end of the driveway, I crawled back into the house, collapsing on the living room floor in hysterics.
I recounted one of the first things someone said to me after the initial injury.
“God needed you flat on your back to show you that exercise was a false idol. You should thank Him for knocking you on your butt.”
And I did. Along with prayers BEGGING for forgiveness and restoration, I thanked Him for showing me my folly and then pleaded to be healed. When healing didn’t come I was enraged, bitter, heartbroken, and shamed.
Shame has been my go to cardio routine ever since. Heart racing, sweat dripping, nauseated, and spent… I would revel in my shortcomings and 8-step-count to my folly.
Here and now I know that this was all from the enemy.
Certainly, I was prideful. Definitely, I paid the piper for my arrogance. The natural consequences of having pushed my body too far and too hard resulted in an injury that I still struggle with.
But the greatest lie I ever believed was that God did this to me to teach me something.
[Tweet “But the greatest lie I ever believed was that God did this to me to teach me something.”]
Greater, that He “needed” me on my back.
I am most grateful to have been set free from this malicious lie.
A lie that held me hostage to the belief that my performance earned or cost me anything is a lie that negates the power of the Cross.
The first realization came when our youngest vandal, Charlie fell off his tricycle. My gut lurched at the sight. My throat tightened and my heart accelerated. Blood poured from his lip and a goose egg formed on his forehead and as I rushed to him, desperate to comfort and heal him this thought flashed in my mind: I would never hurt this boy to teach him something.
Granted, Charlie doesn’t ride his trike off the sidewalk anymore, he learned from his injury, and yes, I had yelped time and again, “Careful baby!” But I wouldn’t have bloodied his lip or knocked him senseless to teach him this danger.
I am only here to comfort.
Kiss and hug on this sweet boy, whom I call son.
And all things are permissible. Purchased for me on Calvary was the freedom to do whatever… and still be adored by the Most High. However, just because I can… doesn’t mean I should. Apart from the Law, the sin of idol worship is dead. But it still carries the weight of natural consequences.
No matter the outcome, no matter my folly I am the beloved of the God of all.
[Tweet “No matter the outcome, no matter my folly I am the beloved of the God of all.”]
He is for me.
He is for my children.
He is for my marriage.
He is for my restoration.
He is for my growth, success, and healing.
And no matter what I do or do not do… He died for me while I was still a sinner.
Walk, run, hobble, or crawl, but get as far as you can from the lie that God’s wrath is near you. This teaching only causes confusion and promotes a spirit of hopelessness and death.
If this were true, if His wrath wasn’t reconciled on Calvary why would He say, nothing can separate you from Him? Why would He declare He came to heal, bind up, and save… if He really came to condemn?
The message isn’t “Jesus loves you but….”
The message is “Jesus loves you still.”
In my humanness I made a mistake, in my daughter-ship, I am adored. He was with me when I was running, lifting, teaching, and going too far. And He is with me now flat on my back, on the mend, and limping down the stairs.
He will never leave me or forsake me.
A perfect love free from condemnation.
The Good News is truly Great News.
The blood worked.
And it is well.
1 Corinthians 10:23 Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial.
May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained. Love, Jami
Have you heard??? My sister Stacey and I have a fun podcast! Check it out!!!
And there is a new sacred and sticky store on ZAZZLE!!!