I am a clumsy individual. I have been since I was a kid. It’s not that I am awkward by any means, just that I have a tendency to allow gravity to attack me when I am not watching. When I was around 7 or 8 I got a hot pink BMX Mongoose bike. (Yes, be in awe of my mad bike skillz) That bike was the be-all, end-all of my world. I would ride and ride and ride…thus giving me the lovely man-calves I have today. You could not get me off of that thing.
Until the day I wrecked. I was coming out of our gravel driveway and attempting to show off to the older neighbor boy and his friends, when I skidded. I slammed right into our mail box and busted my knee up quite well. I still have the scars (and gravel in my knee) to show you if you’d like to see. He actually came over, picked me up and carried me back into the house for my mom to clean me up.
The odd part of all of this is I don’t remember anything, except him lifting me up and taking me back in the house. I don’t remember the pain of the wreck, or how I maneuvered in such a way to skid like I did, or my mom even cleaning me up. I remember sobbing and him swooping in to carry me home.
I have found this happens in my adult life too. I don’t remember circumstances of the pain, just the pain and being cared for by God. It’s those moments which I point back to when He calls to step out and I say, “The pain was too great from the fall.” He gently urges me once more and I point to the scar I carry saying, “No, don’t you see this. I got this last time and it hurt.” He’ll whisper ever so softly when I am finding any excuse to not do His will or to be obedient and say, “I picked you up then and I’ll do it again, and again, and again. I won’t leave you or forsake you.”
I don’t know about you, but His hands lifting me up into an embrace to carry me home is all I can hope for when I fall.
When he falls, he will not be thrown down, because the Lord holds his hand.-Psalm 37:24