The Withered Hand

So I wasn't going crazy in church this week....I did write about the guy with the withered hand last week, the pastor mentioned it in his message today. But it could be more than just a hand, a withered faith, a withered hope, a withered spirit, it could be all those areas of you and me that have taken damage as a result of the sin in this world and the sinful choices we've made.

His hand was withered, probably for years....no normal hand shakes, curious stares from children (and prolly adults), whispers behind his back, can't open things right, can't work, can't feel, can't reach out and touch someone without them cringing...so he stops trying. Hand withered first, hope withering day by day.

Did he have hope that day? Why was he in the temple when Jesus was there? Did he think the Master would even notice him?

But Jesus knew, He knew without looking at him....He knew. He knew the pain that the hand had caused....regardless of how it got that way, and He was going to do something about it. If Jesus had asked the man to walk to another city to be healed...would he have gone? If Jesus said, do this and do that, would he have done it? If Jesus had suggested a 'course of action' that could begin to heal the withering....would he have followed it?

Or would he have said, "Well, I really hate this hand, but that city is quite far off....and I'm not sure if I can fit those things you asked me into my schedule this week...'healed' you say? Like functional healed, or cosmetic healed?" And in his heart the questions that ring even louder, "If you can heal my hand, can you heal all of me?"

And who is the "guy with the withered hand" when suddenly his hand is no longer withered?

God, you know the withered parts in me, the parts that keep me from being able to reach out and touch people, the parts that cause me to hide in shame. You've suggested a course of action, you've given companions for the journey....so why haven't I left town yet? (figurative, I'm not moving anywhere - that I know of)

Things to ponder...

Days Sober = 1

Consecutive meetings = 0

No summit for you...

So I want to write some form of whitty, yet slighty bitter, semi-sarcastic entry on how and why I find myself sitting in Wisconsin - when by all of my best plans, and self-possesed will, I'm supposed to be sitting on a rock 12,500 ft up Long's Peak. I should be setting up a tent in the Boulderfield in about 2 hours, but in 2 hours I'll be punching out of work. Headed for a meeting with my sponsor, then yet another group meeting. The weather here in WI today is 67 and partly cloudy, it feels like I could be sitting on a Lake in the Boundary Waters, or setting up a tent somewhere.....anywhere...but I'm not. I know this sounds bitter and a bit hopeless, good - at least it reflects what I'm feeling.

Just yesterday I was thinking "wow, I had an alright weekend". Now, I couldn't give a rats-a$$ about the weekend. All I can see is all the things I cannot do because of my back or my addiction. And it sucks, but apparently it doesn't suck so bad that I actually want to DO something about it. It's easier to write a blog about things than it is to make those daily decisions to move toward health and sobriety so that I am not limited in what I can do. And maybe then I won't care so much abotu fulfilling MY dreams, as I will care about finding out what His Will for me is.

But right now, I feel like crap. The truth of it is, that I am not crap, I have friends and family who love me. I recently found a church that was pretty darn welcoming, and I will end up "outside" again. So the trapped, helpless, hopeless feelings...are just that...feelings, they are not the truth, certainly not "the whole truth and nothing but the truth".

So would me standing on the summit tomorrow have had any bearing on my addiction and struggles with same-sex attraction? Doubtful, I'd just have all those same struggles and be breathing alot less percentage of oxygen while I was standing there. Do I really beleive that climbing up 14,000 ft would somehow get me close enough to God so that He'd finally hear me? Cause obviously thats the problem - He can't hear me, cause if He could - He would have resuced me already. He would have come down and made all these nasty thoughts go away, and I would suddenly only want to do the "right thing"....unfortunately, or rather thankfully - God is not Prince Charming and knows far too well that to rescue me is to leave me bent and ill-formed. No, only on the long hike home can the scars and wreckage of my prior years be stretched and straightened into a form more human-like, less hunched. Much like the parable of the man with the shriveled hand, everytime he reached out to do anything - his deformity was painfully obvious...yet Jesus healed him in such a way as to completely overcome the deformity.