I remember distinctly my two stints in a non-weight bearing cast. The first came during college years, when I managed to break my foot walking up the stairs to my apartment. 8 weeks in a purple cast. The second experience resulted in plates, pins, screws (that still, to this day, creep me out if something touches them-it's like fingernails dragging across a chalk board) and 10 weeks in a blue cast. Great fun.
During those weeks on crutches, my arms became strong. Suddenly, where once there was no discernable muscles, there suddenly were huge muscles!! But then, how could I not have muscles, since I was having to use my arms to bear my weight day after day after day.
But then the casts were removed----the shock! The Horror! The atrophied leg that emerged after 8 and 10 week confinement was Not Pretty. UGH! But more than being ugly, my leg was practically useless. It couldn't bear my weight. It trembled, it was stiff, it hurt. Walking was painful, because my muscles had not only deteriorated to the point of being unable to do what they were designed to do, they had also forgotten their job during their weeks of non-use.
How does that relate to my mind and my soul? I find myself in probably the strangest place I have ever been in my life. My mind, which once served me so well, appears to have atrophied---it seems to have forgotten it's purpose. Instead of being strong, it has become weak. Instead of being rational, it has become irrational. And my soul, that should believe and trust God is filled with fear and doubt. My soul that should fight for real prayer and real scripture work, runs from those very things. And like my initial reaction of disgust and embarrassment at the sight of my leg, I am experiencing some of the same reaction of disgust and embarrassment as I try to ruthlessly self-examine my mind and my soul.
It was work, real work to condition and train my legs to return to their former shape and responsibilities--hours of physical therapy, hours of stretches and slow, painful tedious walks. It was not easy. And at times, it was crazy discouraging and tiring. But there was no choice, it had to be done. I am thinking that the same holds true for my current mind and soul. I must do the things I know to do, real scripture work, real prayer, in order to repair the atrophy. It is daunting.
Tonight I am reminded of Psalm 40:
I waited patiently for the Lord;
he inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock
making my steps secure.
Oh, that my God would hear my cry, pull me from this miry bog and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.
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