When I was in middle school, I broke my arm. What had happened was…
For about ten days, I was sick with strep throat and a severe sinus infection. I missed a ton of school, couldn’t play outside (do you remember the days of kids playing outside?), and couldn’t practice or play in any of my soccer games. I was antsy to get back outside—to say the least.
While I was sick, my sister made a makeshift swing in our front yard using a long, tattered rope, thrown high around a thick branch of a pecan tree. She discovered the fun of grabbing one end of the rope, running as fast as she could, and hanging on for dear life as she ascended into the air over a ditch that was in our front yard. I came outside to see what she was doing, and she convinced me to take the rope for a ride. I had been cooped up long enough. I was ready to have some fun. I was also competitive, certainly not going to let my sister swing higher than me, and was in a phase where I was fascinated by Evil Knievel (remember that guy?).
None of these factors proved to be a good combination, especially since I was just getting over being sick. However, I grabbed the rope, took off running, folded my knees, hiked my legs into my chest, and let it rip. Big mistake. I remember being at the highest point of altitude and quickly realizing I had no strength to hold onto the rope. The truth was, being sick for so long zapped the strength right out of me, and I simply could not hold onto the rope—20(ish) feet in the air. Okay, maybe not quite that high, but high enough that when I could no longer hold onto the rope, I fell to the ground from a height so tall I snapped my arm in two when I landed. BROKEN! I’d never felt so much pain in my life. I looked down, and my hand was literally sitting on top of my wrist. My sister quickly called my mom, and the look in her eyes clearly said she had never seen anything like what I was feeling. It was brutal pain.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Our insurance didn’t cover an overnight stay and surgery to repair my arm. Ironically, my best friend at the time broke his arm the SAME DAY. His parents’ insurance covered an overnight stay in the hospital and a surgery where they repaired his arm, while he was, of course, out like a light. I, on the other hand, had my arm set that same night, in the emergency room, with no pain medication. I distinctly remember the doctor pouring sweat as he tortured me– I mean, as he reset my arm– bones twisting and setting back into place. I could have passed out from the pain. I know my mom almost did from just hearing my shrills of agony.
But the worst of it still wasn’t over. After returning home in a full cast, my arm began to swell in the middle of the night. Nowadays, they will splint first and then cast a few days later to allow for swelling. But not back then. Throughout the night, as my arm swelled with broken bones, I moaned in pain and anguish as my mom did her best to comfort me. It is one of my most vivid memories to this day—as you can probably tell.
However, a blessing emerged as a result of my broken arm; to this day, my left arm is stronger than my right arm, even though I am right-handed.
When the brokenness healed, it healed back stronger than before.
And that is the one key truth about brokenness that we need to grasp:
- When we heal from our brokenness, we heal stronger in the Lord.
- When God resets us, we are reset stronger than ever, and our steps are ordered more clearly than ever.
- Our brokenness in the hands of God will result in mighty breakthroughs in His time.
God builds us, rebuilds us, in our brokenness!
Can I go ahead and slip in one other major truth about brokenness?
- You can find blessing in brokenness if you will endure the healing process.
You may hurt as you heal, but you will discover the blessing of brokenness as you do so. Ponder the blessing of brokenness today, but remember to stay off rope swings when you are sick!
