I will never forget the day this summer when I woke up with a sharp pain in my left knee.
I had never experienced any bodily injuries or discomfort, so it was a completely strange concept to me. The pain was unbearable when I was using the stairs, and I couldn't walk without limping for about six weeks. When I visited the doctor I was told I had a case of patellofemoral pain syndrome, also known as runner's knee.
Considering how out-of-the-blue this was, I remember thinking, "What have I been praying for lately?"
And then I remembered.
All throughout spring training when our missions team was running together, I had a hard time being understanding and sympathetic towards teammates who had chronic body aches or disorders. I couldn't understand why they couldn't run at a faster rate, and frankly judged them for it. I thought I was better.
A couple days after I started experiencing pain in my knee, I decided to participate in physical training with the team to see if I could persevere (talk about wo-man pride). Five minutes in, the pain got so unbearable that I started tearing up and soon I was bursting into tears. I stepped away from the group and broke down. By then, it wasn't the physical pain that made me cry--but rather the perception of being weak that I couldn't handle.
I couldn't handle not being able to participate in something that everyone else could, and I couldn't handle being seen as incompetent. And that's when I knew I had a problem--finding worth, security, and identity in my competencies.
God, you don't love me because of the things I have accomplished or the things I can do for you. You're not impressed by how many people I've led to Christ, how many people have asked for discipleship, how many compelling Bible studies I've written. You love me as your child, and there's nothing I can do to impress you, woo you, or win you over. Help me to find my security in you, rather than the things I can do for you.
I had never experienced any bodily injuries or discomfort, so it was a completely strange concept to me. The pain was unbearable when I was using the stairs, and I couldn't walk without limping for about six weeks. When I visited the doctor I was told I had a case of patellofemoral pain syndrome, also known as runner's knee.
Considering how out-of-the-blue this was, I remember thinking, "What have I been praying for lately?"
And then I remembered.
All throughout spring training when our missions team was running together, I had a hard time being understanding and sympathetic towards teammates who had chronic body aches or disorders. I couldn't understand why they couldn't run at a faster rate, and frankly judged them for it. I thought I was better.
A couple days after I started experiencing pain in my knee, I decided to participate in physical training with the team to see if I could persevere (talk about wo-man pride). Five minutes in, the pain got so unbearable that I started tearing up and soon I was bursting into tears. I stepped away from the group and broke down. By then, it wasn't the physical pain that made me cry--but rather the perception of being weak that I couldn't handle.
I couldn't handle not being able to participate in something that everyone else could, and I couldn't handle being seen as incompetent. And that's when I knew I had a problem--finding worth, security, and identity in my competencies.
God, you don't love me because of the things I have accomplished or the things I can do for you. You're not impressed by how many people I've led to Christ, how many people have asked for discipleship, how many compelling Bible studies I've written. You love me as your child, and there's nothing I can do to impress you, woo you, or win you over. Help me to find my security in you, rather than the things I can do for you.
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