After surgery two weeks ago, my time of recovery and recuperation began. The first week I was down for the count with very little moving around, mostly sleeping in my bed or sitting in my recliner dozing.
Then came my first day 8 days later when I woke up. My pain was manageable. The nausea had left. A slight burst of energy sparked my mind. I got breakfast on the table and ate there with my husband. I spent time writing at my computer. I even folded clean towels. By the end of the day, a shot of adrenaline made me forget the cramps starting to strike.
Sunday came and with it, disappointment. While entering the dining room, my legs buckled. My stomach churned. An acrid taste made me sick. Cramps doubled me with pain. I made my way to my recliner and my heating pad where I remained most all day. Monday morning was a repeat of Sunday, but after a morning nap, the afternoon improved, but I feared a repeat of Sunday and stayed at rest.
Tuesday dawned. I edged toward the kitchen. I held my breath afraid to voice what I now realized. I didn't hurt. I wasn't nauseas. If I spoke it, would my health dissolve? No, Tuesday was a good, productive day (for a sick person) all day. Now, surely, I was on the path to full restoration.
Then, came Wednesday. Did I pay for doing too much Tuesday, or was it just another dip in my uneven path?
Through each phase, God walked beside me and held my hand.
The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord; and he delighteth in his way.
Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand.
Psalm 37:23, 24
Much Scripture compares life to a path. I propose to you that our faith walk may be an uneven path just like the one for rehabilitation.
First, we're in our sin. We're asleep (or dead) to God. We don't question what we should be doing for Christ because we do nothing.
Then, salvation sends the fire of excitement. We want to do more and more for Christ in appreciation for what He's done for us. We expect everyone to see our viewpoint.
Trials strike. Others don't get it. Our energy drains and pools on the floor.
We pray. We revive. We move ahead with renewed vigor and understanding.
Then, we trip. We falter. Are we saved anymore? How could we speak such angry words, or tell that awful story after Christ died for us?
God's strong arm lifts us, forgives, us, and like a Mama Eagle teaching her young to fly, the Lord nudges us out of the nest.
This then is the uneven path of faith.
Through this path, also, God is there through good and through bad.
For those who struggle with an overeating compulsion like me, our walk to healthier eating also follows an uneven path.
What about you?
Can you identify with the faith walk? Or maybe the health recovery?
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