An Overturned Truck and a Painful Hip

Ken went with me to Grand Forks for a rheumatologist appointment yesterday. As we drove toward the freeway when the appointment was over, we saw a semi turned on its side in the middle of a busy intersection.

Police had set up barricades and rerouted traffic. People milled around with cameras. Men worked from two additional semis—semis with cranes. They were positioning straps they'd placed around the prone cab and trailer so they could set things right again. I wondered about the driver. What had he done—or not done—just before before the accident or as the accident happened?

But I was personally experiencing a red-letter day and couldn’t feel badly just then. The rheumatologist had asked his usual questions during my appointment and then I told him about my hip. I’ve been nursing it along for about five months, hoping it would get better, avoiding an appointment with an orthopedist for fear he’d recommend surgery.

Well, the rheumatologist began asking questions and he seemed to know my answers before I stated them. Then he poked and probed before saying he thought he could take care of it by giving me a shot. He left the room, his nurse prepped me, he came back to insert the needle, and as he walked out the office door he said I’d know in a day or two if it worked.

Finally, another nurse administered a remicade infusion, and when the procedure was over I found Ken. By then I knew the shot was doing its magic. We had a bite to eat and I was riding high.

This morning, however, reflecting on the difference between the way I was feeling and the way I'd felt yesterday morning, I began making comparisons between my body and that overturned truck. I realized I've been more or less overturned for several months, stuck with a painful hip in the busy intersection of life. God help me, I've cried over and over. What should I do?

And always, that nagging sense of guilt. I’ve had problems with my hips before and yet, in the excitement of one moment several months ago, I threw caution to the wind and ended up in need of a rescue. And perhaps the same is true of the rheumatoid arthritis. I might be free of problems today if I’d taken care of myself when younger. I wasn’t a good driver—I pushed my body beyond its limits.

Those sorts of inner accusations come from Satan and they're difficult because there’s truth to them. Satan knows how to torment. I’m so glad a doctor gave me a shot and fixed me up. I also know that unless God heals me completely, if I do something similar on another occasion, I’ll probably have problems again. Because of my medical history, my body is vulnerable.

Our pastor has been preaching on the book of Romans this summer. Last Sunday he focused on chapter 8. The chapter begins with, There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. (Rom. 8:1 ESV)

The chapter ends with, Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn. . . ? Who shall separate us from the love of Christ. . . ? [W]e are more than conquerors through him who loved us. (Rom. 8:33,34a,35,37)

It was a message I needed. I don’t want to imply sin doesn’t matter. I am, however, emphasizing that Paul reminded the Romans that there’s no condemnation because Jesus’ death justifies sinners.

When my hip hurt, I lived with forgiveness even as I lived with the consequences of sin. I can live with consequences because His presence lives within me.

Then there’s pain caused by sin against others. I’ve been guilty of that, too, and the condemnation I feel over those sins is even worse. But in this same chapter we read, And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good. (Rom. 8:28) That includes the sinner and those sinned against.

It doesn’t seem possible, but God says it is so. If we trust Him, we believe He will do the impossible. I’ve seen it happen, and I'm waiting for it to happen again. Meanwhile, acknowledging and repenting have a refining effect because God begins to work in me. And the fact that God can turn the results of sin into good brings peace. God promises He won’t let anything separate me from His care—not even thoughts of despair or condemnation. It's enough to fill a person with joy.

I may be overturned now and then, in need of rescue. But rescue is His specialty.