In an effort to cultivate courage, I decided to submit my writing to various blogs, magazine and publications this year.
It’s easy for me to write words that sit dormant on my hard drive and never see the light of day, but to write words that are then hand over to someone else? That requires a level of bravery that doesn’t come naturally to me. If I try to publish a book one day, I’m going to need some practice at letting others see my writing. I’ve got to start somewhere, right?
I didn’t intend for any of the writing I submitted to be published, this was simply an exercise in courage. To my surprise, all 3 pieces that I have submitted so far have been accepted by different publications. I was (and still am) so surprised when The Joyful Life let me know that a piece I submitted to them was selected for print in their summer issue, Surrender. It is out right now so if you’re looking for a lovely magazine to take to the beach with you, this is it!
In case you don’t have a chance to see the magazine in person, I’ve included my piece below.
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He slipped in through a side door, hoping the shadows might conceal his entrance. Slowly, he made his way to a bench near the corner, careful to keep his right hand hidden as best he could. It hurt to bend it in such a way, but the pain was better than the snickers that would surely come otherwise. Even with his hand hidden, he could feel the watchful gaze of those nearby. Nothing obvious—just some side glances and a few sets of lingering eyes.
He sat quietly as the other men swapped stories about work and family. He longed to participate in those types of conversations, to feel included and accepted, but he had neither solid work nor a family of his own with which he could relate. Oh, how he longed for a wife and children! Oh, how he longed for a steady job where he could do real, honest work!
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he waited.
To his left, the main door opened and closed. Heads began to turn. Whispers befell the room.
Curious, he stood slightly and craned his neck toward the door, and as he scanned the room, their eyes met.
Quickly, he diverted his eyes from the stranger. Head down, hand hidden. “Why did he look at me?” he wondered silently to himself. The whispers grew louder, and the footsteps grew closer. He sensed someone standing next to him, but he was too afraid to look up. “Oh, please don’t say anything to me. Please don’t ridicule me,” he wished quietly. It had happened before, you know. In this very place with some of the very men who were sitting down the way. He tried to push the embarrassing memories aside and hoped the man would simply take his seat and not cause a scene.
“Come, stand in front of everyone. Hold out your hand.”
He looked up at the man, and their eyes met once again. There was kindness in the man’s eyes. Without hesitation, without even knowing what he was doing, he immediately stood up and walked to the front of the room.
Hesitation gave way to restoration. He held out his hand and was healed. New life surged through his fingers and his heart burst with joyful relief. With tears in his eyes, he raised his hand even higher for all to see.
AN INVITATION TO SUBMIT TO CHRIST
This story might sound like fiction, but it isn’t. You can read the original accounts in Matthew 12:9-14, Mark 3:1-6 and Luke 6:6-11. Sure, I spent a little extra time imagining what it must have been like for this expectant man, but the story is true and Jesus’ words are unaltered (Mark 3:3, NLT).
Traditionally, this story in the Bible is used to illustrate Jesus’ healings, the scandal of performing miracles on the Sabbath, and his righteous anger at the hard hearts of the Pharisees.
I see something a bit more subtle.
I see an invitation. An invitation to submit to Christ as we share our pain, our vulnerabilities, our stories.
Jesus would have known how hard it was for this man to stand up in front of everyone and put his suffering on display and how his hand would have caused him great shame, pain, and ostracism in his culture. (Is it really much different in our society today?) Certainly, Jesus could have privately approached the man in the synagogue afterward. He could have healed the man without calling him to stand up and hold out his greatest source of shame for all to see. And yet, despite all of this, Jesus invited the man to stand before everyone, and in love, He shone a light on the very weakness the man hoped to keep hidden.
Jesus invites us to share our most vulnerable pain as well—to share it with Him and with others. Sometimes, Jesus invites us to heal in the privacy of prayer or a counselor’s office. And sometimes, Jesus invites us to experience healing in a way that feels a bit risky and exposing.
SHARING IN SPITE OF DISCOMFORT
I still get sweaty palms thinking about the first time God asked me to share some of my story. Our church was doing a sermon series on suffering, and each Sunday before the sermon, they played a video clip of someone’s story of affliction and hardship. I was asked if I would be willing to share my story of infertility, the loss of my only pregnancy, going through brain surgery, and walking with my husband through his near-death experience with blood clots in his lungs. I was terrified. I was relatively new to the church, and I feared that sharing my story in such a public way would forever change how people saw me.
As I prayed about the invitation to share my story, I continually sensed God inviting me to submit despite the discomfort and allow Him to use my story of pain for His glory. After all, my story isn’t actually my story. It’s His story that He’s written for my life. He has given me the opportunity to be a steward of a painful story so that others might be encouraged to share their own and seek God’s healing in their lives as well.
The day my video was to be played for the entire congregation, I trembled from the moment I woke up, yet as the time grew closer, I felt the supernatural peace of God come over me. After the service, I was amazed at the number of people who came up to me to share their own stories and to thank me for my courage.
Despite my discomfort and fear, telling my story was freeing. Somehow through my willingness to surrender and share openly, pain had lost some of its power over me. I began to see how sharing our hard and hidden things with others truly invites healing and brings God glory.
I can’t help but wonder: How many people in the synagogue that day witnessed their first miracle as a result of that man’s submission to Christ’s call? How many became devoted followers of Jesus that day? So it is in our own lives. How many people might come to know God’s healing touch through hearing our stories? How many people might breathe a deep sigh of relief as they learn they are not alone in their pain?
ENABLED TO SHARE DESPITE INABILITY
It’s interesting to note that the man with the withered hand was probably unable to physically stretch out his hand due to his disability. The very thing Jesus was asking him to do was something he likely couldn’t do on his own. The Greek word to describe the man’s hand (ξηρός) connotes a sense of being deprived, shrunken, withered, and wasted. His hand had no life in it. You can’t move a hand that has wasted away. You can’t outstretch something that has withered and been deprived of life. You can’t white-knuckle yourself into accepting this invitation to share your most tender places. Only God can do that.
Some days I still feel physically incapable of sharing my story. Even thinking about the prospect of doing so feels daunting. What welcome relief it is to know that we don’t need to share our story out of sheer gumption, guilt, or willpower. It is the power of the Holy Spirit that gives us the strength and courage to slowly crawl out of the shadows and submit to the healing power of Christ. There is no rush, no pressure. All you need is a willing heart, open to how God might work through your courageous submission.
When it comes to sharing our stories and pain, we don’t need the perfect words, and we don’t need to have a happy ending. Nor do we need to share deep spiritual insight, or have a firm grasp on how God is using our distress for some greater purpose. It’s okay to share in the midst of deep confusion and sadness. The man with the withered hand had nothing positive to share when he stood up in front of everyone. All he had was the shame and an ugly, disfigured hand. Yet Christ took the man’s willingness to be vulnerable and He turned it into a story of beautiful restoration.
It is the Holy Spirit who gives us the power to submit to Jesus’ invitation to share our stories for His glory. We can draw upon that power when we feel too scared to speak about our trials and struggles. Through our submission, God’s power shines brighter. We are graciously given the courage to share the hard things in our life so that God might be glorified and others might be encouraged. The freedom that is available in Christ through the surrendering of our stories is immense. God longs for us to experience the abundant freedom that comes as we stand up, walk towards Jesus, and hold up our tender places for others to see.
Friend, I pray you will consider the invitation from God to share your story. Start with Jesus today and a trusted friend tomorrow. Before you know it, a wave of God’s healing might just wash over you and restore your withered heart.
