Parts of this story appears in Fellowship of the Suffering: How Hardship Shapes Us for Ministry and Mission (coauthored by Dave Ripper and myself and released by InterVarsity Press in May 2018). Copies are available at from InterVarsity Press or on Amazon.
On February 20, 1971 I committed my life to following Jesus Christ. Although I had been raised by Christian parents, I didn’t make my own personal commitment until that day.
Several months later, I joined several other kids from our church’s youth ministry for a trip to a birthday party. It was the second Sunday of October; our autumn leaves had already started to fall, and it was a rainy night. We hit a patch of leaves on a curvy back road and slid at 40 or 50 miles per hour into a tree. I was in the right front seat. No seatbelts, no airbags: it was 1971.
Others were severely injured but I got it the worst. Miraculously, I didn’t go through the windshield. Although I have no memory of doing this, my injuries indicated that I must have seen the tree coming and braced my shins against the dashboard. Broken right leg in three places. Broken right and left pelvis. Assorted cuts requiring multiple stitches. Torn muscles in my neck and chest. And a ruptured spleen, an injury that would put me on the “danger list,” result in seven blood transfusions and include a horrific transfusion reaction.
Miraculously, I and all the others in the car survived. I had a splenectomy, and laid in neck, pelvis and leg traction for a little over five weeks. Full recovery took closer to six months And some of the injuries still have their impact on me almost 5 decades later.
As a less-than-one-year-old Christian, I was forced to start wrestling with the role of suffering as it relates to growth in my Christian life. In one sense, this accident: the experience of physical pain, the questioning of “Why God?” and my distinct sense that God had saved my life all have shaped me deeply.
Looking back now 47 years later, I still can see the physical scars, but I’m much more grateful as I see deeper imprints of how the experience shaped me. I share these lessons in hopes that someone whose in the midst pain can think with hope about something God might be doing in the midst of your pain.
Patient endurance: the recovery process through physical therapy teaches you that growth is not a quick process, nor a painless one.
Prayer: when your neck, leg and pelvises are in traction and every movement causes pain somewhere, you learn to pray – you cannot really do anything else. From the impact of that accident, I still pray a simple plea almost every day: “Jesus, I cannot do this alone; I desperately need you.” The “this” in my life might be something different now, but my awareness of need is constant.
Discipline: that accident shaped my young Christian life with self-discipline. I had to make up almost three months of school work so that I could graduate high school. My study habits improved dramatically and helped me through college and graduate school.
Scripture: when you are in some sort of suffering, it’s amazing how many scripture verses leap off the page in ways they never did before:
- The Lord gives; the Lord takes away (Job 1:21)
- It was good for me to be afflicted (Psalm 119:67)
- Before I was afflicted I went astray (Psalm 119:71)
- Though he slay me I will trust him (Job 13:15)
- Jesus learned obedience through suffering (Hebrews 5:8)
- We know sorrow but our joy is inextinguishable (II Corinthians 6:10)
Empathy: it’s easier to sit quietly next to another person in pain – without worrying about saying something profound – when you have been in the sufferers position, and all you wanted was for someone to sit with you.
Gratitude: when medical and non-medical people alike tell you that it’s a miracle that you’re alive, you realize with great conviction that every day is a gift, that in Christ we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28).
Why does God allow these things? I wish I had a tidy answer. All I can do is testify is that he holds onto us and shapes our character through experiences we would never choose for ourselves.
