January 20

This is my left shoulder. It's been my personal albatross since last June when, while reaching for a glass or a crochet hook or some other random sundry, I inadvertently stretched it a little bit too far and tore a muscle in my upper arm. The pain that resulted was intermittent, but unpredictably horrific. 

When I first suffered the injury, I stopped moving it every time I felt that pain kick in. If I moved the wrong way and felt a hint of discomfort, I would clutch it close to my side and hold it there. Gradually, my double-pronged fear of causing further damage and of feeling pain limited its  functionality. And eventually, I was hardly able to move it at all. I protected it so effectively from the pains inflicted by normal daily movement that it lost the very functionality that made it a healthy, effective joint.

That’s the ironic thing about some forms of pain. Our very human inclination is to turn away from it and to avoid it, just like I spent months trying to shield my shoulder. In fact, we sometimes go to great lengths to protect our hearts and souls from it at all costs, even if it means we lose something that’s very valuable to us along the way. 

But as I've learned in physical therapy, we have to push through the pain in order to get well. I can't just sit back and hope it will get better because without active work on my part, it won't. Some pains are meant to be experienced and battled, and in order to find true healing, those pains must be faced head on. We can, of course, put off dealing with pain like I did, but when we do that, we delay the healing that’s to come. The healing that's promised by Jesus.

My shoulder and I haven’t yet reached that portion of the journey, but I know it’s coming because I'm doing my stretches and enduring the necessary tissue-prodding by my physical therapist. And I look forward to it, because healing is freedom. And I am thankful for the full wellness that will be mine, both in this life and beyond.