On Thursday I fell off my bike for the first time since I was 5 years old. I even remember the last time it happened because I remember the look of terror on my mother's face as she ran towards me on the street, yelling in hysterics. Of course I was absolutely fine after a good hug and kiss and I had a nice battle scar to show everyone.
This time was a bit different. I was alone and somewhat far from my house. I was using my brother's new bike and the brakes were in superb shape. I was trying to adjust my helmet when I realized I was approaching an intersection far too quickly, so my first impression was to squeeze the brakes with my left hand. Now, on this particular bike, the combination of good brakes and only engaging the front tires resulted in a head first approach to the pavement. I really didn't even have time to think about what had happened until I was lying on the ground. My arm hurt a little and all I remember thinking as 'PLEASE don't be broken, PLEASE don't be broken. Mom is going to KILL me-ANOTHER broken bone' (I've broken a few before...) or 'is James' bike okay? Did I ruin it?'
Fortunately, there were two men standing around the road who came over to help me. Minus a few layers of skin on my hands, elbows and knees, a nice bruise on my quad and a hurt ego, I am fine, and most importantly, the bike is without wear and tear.
I started thinking about my reaction to the accident and why my injuries didn't start to hurt until later. It wasn't until I got home did I really start to feel the collision with the ground. Of course, having spent years lifeguarding and much of my university career in science, I know the effects of shock and its intricate protective mechanism but I learned a good lesson.
I began to think over the connection between my upcoming journeys and my accident. Throughout the journey of deciding where to go and for how long, I've sought to include my family at every level. By no means would I ever consider otherwise when trying to figure out long term mission opportunities but my view of their position was limited. I realized that every action I take has an opposite reaction within the confines of my family.
This leads into the main point of this blog. How does one follow the will of God while at the same time remaining honouring to their parents and siblings? My parents have been beyond supportive in this journey but I wonder if the pain they are enduring, caused by my choices, is honouring them?
I am reminded of the verse in Matt where Mary weeps at the foot of the cross for her son. She knows that he is the Saviour of the world, but to her she is also his baby. As I try to put myself in Jesus shoes I would think that the last thing Jesus would want his mother to see is his suffering, but the other part of it was that she NEEDED to see it just like the rest of the world.
Let's get one thing straight, I am CERTAINLY not claiming to be Jesus but I like to think sometimes that my life is intricately linked to his own human experience.
This time was a bit different. I was alone and somewhat far from my house. I was using my brother's new bike and the brakes were in superb shape. I was trying to adjust my helmet when I realized I was approaching an intersection far too quickly, so my first impression was to squeeze the brakes with my left hand. Now, on this particular bike, the combination of good brakes and only engaging the front tires resulted in a head first approach to the pavement. I really didn't even have time to think about what had happened until I was lying on the ground. My arm hurt a little and all I remember thinking as 'PLEASE don't be broken, PLEASE don't be broken. Mom is going to KILL me-ANOTHER broken bone' (I've broken a few before...) or 'is James' bike okay? Did I ruin it?'
Fortunately, there were two men standing around the road who came over to help me. Minus a few layers of skin on my hands, elbows and knees, a nice bruise on my quad and a hurt ego, I am fine, and most importantly, the bike is without wear and tear.
I started thinking about my reaction to the accident and why my injuries didn't start to hurt until later. It wasn't until I got home did I really start to feel the collision with the ground. Of course, having spent years lifeguarding and much of my university career in science, I know the effects of shock and its intricate protective mechanism but I learned a good lesson.
I began to think over the connection between my upcoming journeys and my accident. Throughout the journey of deciding where to go and for how long, I've sought to include my family at every level. By no means would I ever consider otherwise when trying to figure out long term mission opportunities but my view of their position was limited. I realized that every action I take has an opposite reaction within the confines of my family.
This leads into the main point of this blog. How does one follow the will of God while at the same time remaining honouring to their parents and siblings? My parents have been beyond supportive in this journey but I wonder if the pain they are enduring, caused by my choices, is honouring them?
I am reminded of the verse in Matt where Mary weeps at the foot of the cross for her son. She knows that he is the Saviour of the world, but to her she is also his baby. As I try to put myself in Jesus shoes I would think that the last thing Jesus would want his mother to see is his suffering, but the other part of it was that she NEEDED to see it just like the rest of the world.
Let's get one thing straight, I am CERTAINLY not claiming to be Jesus but I like to think sometimes that my life is intricately linked to his own human experience.
Parents are a wonderful gift from God to provide love and support but they cannot protect you from pain. The only person who can is God and is aware of oncoming pain in our lives yet does nothing to stop it. In my own life, I learn best from mistakes and God takes full advantage of this. Pain is inevitable but it is survivable through faith. God molds and transforms, not even mentioning healing through pain. It is in the deepest darkest moments of my soul that God gives clarity. Thus I've decided that if pain results in this, I choose pain. I am honouring my parents by honouring God first.
For me, pain equals a time of clarity. I guess falling off my bike wasn't so bad after all.
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