The Upside of Brokenness
Embracing suffering as the path toward preparation for God's purposes
Note: I originally wrote this piece in March 2021, but as it turns out, my medical adventures were not yet over. I included an update at the end of the article.
October 30, 2020 started off no differently than several other workdays during the pandemic. I had been working from home since about the end of March 2020 and developed a morning routine where I would groom myself and get a couple of household chores done before settling down at my computer to work for the rest of the day. On that particular morning, I thought I’d get a load of laundry started before work, so I grabbed a laundry basket, filled it with dirty clothes, and started down the steps from the bedroom. I wasn’t watching where I was placing my feet since I’d been down these steps dozens of times before and knew where they were. This time, however, I missed the bottom step and I began to fall. With my arms occupied by the laundry basket, I didn’t break my fall and my considerable weight caused my legs to bend in awkward and unintended directions. Even as I write about it, I am chilled by the image in my head of that fall.
I knew I had done serious damage to both legs, and not just because of the pain I felt or the fact I couldn’t stand. I had a gap in my left knee where my quadriceps tendon should have been, and my right ankle was slightly off-kilter and swelling rapidly. Both Briana and Colin were home that morning, and they came running as soon as they heard me scream. Regrettably, that’s a cry they’ve heard a couple of other times in the past. They called an ambulance and I was soon on my way to the emergency room at Lynchburg General Hospital, a familiar destination for me over the past nine-plus years. Twelve hours later, I was admitted to the hospital with a ruptured left quadriceps tendon, the second time in less than ten years that I’d sustained that particular injury, and a fractured right ankle and torn right ankle deltoid ligament. Dr. Peter Caprise, who had worked on me five times previously, conducted surgery on my injuries on October 31st. I remember asking him before I went under if this counted as one surgery or two, and he told me it was two different injuries and two different body parts, so it counted as two! After surgery, I spent 11 days in the hospital and seven days in a rehabilitation center before coming home on November 17th to continue my recovery.
As 2020 came to a close, I found myself in an all-too-familiar position, that of recovering from injuries that required surgery to repair. Since moving to Lynchburg in 2011 to take a position at Liberty University, my medical dossier has taken on the thickness of a Tolstoy novel — 12 total surgeries in less than ten years, not to mention a week-long stay in the hospital for unexplained internal bleeding that resulted in the loss of two-thirds of my blood volume.
Some of these surgeries were simply the result of getting old — my knees, shoulder, and right hip were deteriorating and needed maintenance or, in the case of the hip, total replacement. The compression of the nerve in the carpal tunnel of my right wrist was so pervasive that it took two surgeries, seven months apart, to fix it.
Five of the surgeries were the result of injuries sustained in falls. Collectively, my clumsiness caused, in order of each episode, a ruptured left triceps tendon, a simultaneous bilateral quadriceps tendon rupture, a damaged bursa sac in the right knee, a re-ruptured left quadriceps tendon, and a fractured right ankle. The bilateral quad tendon rupture made me a novelty of sorts in the emergency room since it’s apparently unusual to rupture both quad tendons at the same time!
One of my injuries was simply a freak accident. I was on my hands and knees under a desk, and as I reached for something with my left hand, the right arm buckled, rupturing my right triceps tendon in the process.
My maladies have become the subject of good-natured quips and ribbing at home, work, and church, and it’s good to be able to laugh about it at times. I have, however, had some dark nights of the soul where despair overwhelmed me, and I wondered what sin I had committed that was so grievous that God allowed such pain and helplessness into my life.
Moreover, these physical calamities were not the beginning of my time of suffering. In the decade before moving to central Virginia:
I experienced falsehoods and betrayal during my service with the Bush Administration that hastened my departure from what was once a dream job;
I ran for public office and lost, plunging my family into debt in the process; and
I was laid off three times in three years, with the last layoff resulting in over a year without full-time work.
The weight of these setbacks plunged me into a deep depression that required medication and counseling to overcome. I took the job at Liberty University without any background in academia and moved my family from our home of 10 years, the longest we’d lived in any one place, because I was out of options. I was in a fragile mental state when I moved here, and then my body started breaking as well.
I have often stated that I believe in an intentional and purposeful God and that there is a reason for everything that happens. When I came upon hard times after living a relatively charmed life for most of my years, the question I asked most often, usually through tears, was, “Why, Lord?”
No one likes to suffer, and we are conditioned to avoid suffering by any means necessary. Rod Dreher, a Christian author and editor-in-chief of The American Conservative, declares that “the prevailing attitude” of today’s generation is “that life’s difficulties are a threat to one’s well-being and should be refused.” As I look back on my approach to life, it was one where I always thought I could plan and scheme my way to the life I wanted and there was no obstacle I couldn’t figure out a way to overcome. It wasn’t until I ran into the buzzsaw that has been my life for the past 20 years that I gradually surrendered the notion I was smarter than the rest of the world. Even so, I thought there was something I was or wasn’t doing that was causing me to suffer, and I went searching for answers to the question, “Why, Lord?” so I could figure out how to stop what was happening to me. The answers I found surprised me, and I should have known better.
One of the places where I found some help was in the daily devotions I received in my inbox from Os Hillman, founder of Marketplace Leaders, a Christian ministry that helps people apply their faith in their professional lives. I remember him sharing about how he went through a period of great success in his personal and professional life, followed by the loss of his wealth and marriage, after which he endured a seven-year period of suffering that could have crushed him. He had somehow managed to find success on the other end of his trials, and, spurred by his story, I ordered his book, The Upside of Adversity: Rising from the Pit to Greatness. In it, he writes that God “knows that adversity builds character and produces wisdom in the life of a leader.” He was told by people from whom he sought counsel that he had a “Joseph calling” on his life.
Most Christians know the story of Joseph in the book of Genesis. Joseph was a confident young man who had visions of greatness that he was quick to share with his father and brothers, the latter of whom despised him for his youthful arrogance and the devotion of their father toward him. Eventually, they had enough of him and seized him and tossed him into a pit with the intent to harm him. Instead, they decided to sell him into slavery and lie to their father about his fate, claiming a wild animal killed him. Thus began a seven-year period of trial and testing for Joseph, and he was faithful to God despite his suffering. Eventually, he was allowed to prove himself, and he rose to become one of the most powerful men in Egypt, with only the Pharaoh above him. He saved Egypt from a great famine. When his family came to Egypt seeking food, he eventually revealed himself to them, forgave them for their transgressions against him, and ensured that they and the nation of Israel which would emerge from them would be preserved.
Rereading the story of Joseph made me realize that even righteous people suffer. Joseph did nothing to deserve his fate, but it happened to him anyway. That’s not to put me in the category of Joseph because a lot of my trials were due to self-inflicted wounds, however well-intentioned I may have been. Nonetheless, it disabused me of the notion that I was being punished or that God was angry with me for some unknown reason.
One of the great lies about salvation is that your worldly cares will be over once you’ve accepted Christ. In fact, it’s more accurate to say that your problems are just beginning. 1 Peter 4:12 says, “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.” Paul told his protege Timothy that “Indeed, all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Timothy 3:12). Jesus told his disciples, “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).
Jesus Himself was a suffering Savior, not the conquering warrior hero the Israelites envisioned as their Messiah. Isaiah predicted hundreds of years before Jesus was born that He would be “despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not” (Isaiah 53:3).
American Christians rail against suffering and persecution as if we are entitled to a life of power, influence, safety, and comfort, and adversity is not supposed to be our lot. Theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer called it “grace without the cross,” and author Aldous Huxley, in his seminal work Brave New World, described it as “Christianity without tears.” Yet our churches are slowly emptying, and church members are now in the minority in America for the first time in the 83 years this statistic has been measured. Conversely, Christianity is under constant persecution in other nations worldwide, but the church is growing in places like Iran and Afghanistan.
That is yet another example of Jesus’ upside-down Kingdom, where everything is opposite that of the world. The last shall be first, those who wish to be great must be the servant of all, and those who suffer will inherit the Kingdom of Heaven.
Joseph’s story also led me to conclude that suffering is a catalyst for transformation if you allow it to change you. After seven years, the Joseph that emerged from the depths of despair was better prepared for the great task that lay ahead of him than the prideful teenager who eagerly shared his dreams of his family bowing down to him someday. The apostle Paul tells us, “Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope” (Romans 5:3–4) and Jesus’ brother James says, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing” (James 1:2–4). Jesus is direct when He declares, “And whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10:38), and He reinforces that thought in the gospel of Luke, “Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:27).
In reviewing Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s greatest work, The Gulag Archipelago, Rod Dreher makes the following observation:
Solzhenitsyn’s audacious claim was that suffering taught him to love. There is nothing in the Gospels that requires Christians to seek out suffering. The Word of God is not a prescription for masochism. But the life of Christ, as well as the Old Testament’s example of the prophets, compels believers to accept that suffering, if rightly received, can be a gift.
So the answer to the question, “Why, Lord?” is apparent throughout Scripture. Suffering is inevitable and necessary if you are committed to being a disciple of Christ. Once I learned to embrace this lesson, I sought ways to use my suffering to become more useful to the Lord, and I can say with confidence that I am not the same person I was 20 or even 10 years ago.
The person I was would look at others’ failed lives and assume they lacked something — grit, perseverance, work ethic, or some other personal quality — that accounted for their circumstances in life. The person I am today is more empathetic and less judgmental, recognizing that much of my earlier life success had little to do with me and much of my good fortune was due to circumstances beyond my control. To paraphrase the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I was able to pull myself up by my bootstraps because life had given me boots.
The person I was had a lot of pride and thought of himself as someone special or unique. The person I am today is humble because I have been laid low, and it shattered my pride. When you can’t get up to go to the bathroom, and you have to rely on others to help you do the most basic functions, it is humiliating, and my shame at having nurses care for me in my helpless state was magnified by their kindness and compassion in the midst of my apologies for their labors. I will never forget their shining example or how small I felt because of what they were willing to do to keep me comfortable and clean. I thanked them profusely and considered them greater than I ever was or will be because they served this broken man. Philippians 2:3–4 says, “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” After all I’ve endured, this comes as naturally to me as breathing, and I do not doubt that it makes me a better servant of Christ.
The person I was could be impatient; the person I am today has learned to be calm and bear much without complaint. The term “long-suffering” comes to mind!
The person I was insisted on control; the person I am today has learned how to surrender and has found that peace that passes all understanding.
The person I was held fast to certain beliefs; the person I am today is teachable and willing to change when presented with new information. I have learned that there are fewer absolutes in this world than the world wants you to believe, and a lot of the ideas we hold tightly are just shields to prevent us from acknowledging the humanity of those we don’t know or associate with. I have learned to inquire rather than assume, and it’s a lot harder to demonize people when you’re genuinely trying to understand why they think and act as they do. Steven Covey says to “Seek first to understand, then to be understood.” Take an interest in others, and you may find them more willing to listen to what you have to say.
Oh, there is one more lesson I learned from this most recent experience. The person I was could be easily distracted and would not pay attention fully to what he was doing. The person I am today is more mindful, watching every step and taking one step at a time. I’m sure that lesson has other useful applications, but I’m certainly employing it when it comes to the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other!
Postscript:
On September 1st, 2022, a perfectly normal day turned into an evening of dizziness, followed by profuse bleeding when going to the bathroom. I foolishly hoped it would go away for no apparent reason, perhaps because it came on for no reason! However, after a night of repeated trips to the bathroom that produced more blood, I texted my wife and daughter and asked the first one to wake up if they would take me to the emergency room. I arrived, and after a brief examination, they asked me for a urine sample and to sit in the waiting room. After I provided the sample, I started to feel deathly ill and couldn’t sit up; I repeatedly exclaimed, “I need to lay down,” even though there was nowhere in the waiting room to do that. Fortunately, they were coming out to get me for X-rays, and they got me from a wheelchair into a gurney, which helped me to calm down. I was wheeled into an examination bay, and I asked if they could adjust the gurney so I could sit up.
The next thing I knew, I looked around and was surrounded by nurses, and one of them said, “That was dramatic!” I had no idea what they meant, and my wife filled me in. The second I sat up, I blacked out and extended my arms like I was on the bow of the Titanic. They laid me back down on the gurney, and I came to after about a minute. My wife thought I was having a seizure, but it was hypovolemic shock due to excessive blood loss. I was immediately given a transfusion, rushed into the operating room for an endoscopy, and placed in the intensive care unit afterward. In my extensive medical history, a stay in the ICU was a first for me, at least as an adult, since I’m confident I was in the neonatal ICU as a newborn weighing two pounds, seven and a half ounces. After 24 hours in the ICU, they moved me to a regular hospital room for the remainder of my stay, another 3-4 days.
I learned that I have a congenital condition called Dieulafoy’s lesion - “a developmental vascular malformation of the gastrointestinal tract (GIT). It is an enlarged submucosal blood vessel that bleeds in the absence of any abnormality, such as ulcers or erosions,” according to a text in the National Library of Medicine. It is typically discovered and repaired through an endoscopy, but it's almost impossible to detect if it’s not caught when actively bleeding. Remember that “unexplained internal bleeding” I described earlier that caused me to lose two-thirds of my blood volume and landed me in the hospital for a week? We now suspect Dieulafoy’s lesion caused that bleeding episode over ten years ago. This time they caught it, cauterized the bleed, and further suppressed it with epinephrine sclerotherapy, a fancy medical term for injecting a bleeding suppressant into the blood vessel. They said it shouldn’t occur again, but I can no longer take anti-inflammatory drugs like ibuprofen or aspirin. Needless to say, in the future, I’m going straight to the emergency room at the first sign of bleeding!
Of course, this happened ten days before my son Colin’s wedding, our first child to marry, and two weeks before I departed Liberty University after more than 11 years for a new job as a vice president for online learning at Southwest Baptist University. While I wasn’t strong enough to perform a portion of the wedding as planned, I escorted my son down the aisle to be with Rory, his new bride, and I enjoyed connecting with friends old and new afterward during the reception. My friends and colleagues at Liberty University, especially those in the Helms School of Government, my home at Liberty from start to finish, gave me a wonderful send-off with parties and tributes on social media. I started my new job with a full heart and great expectations for the future.
So was there a lesson or purpose in this particular episode, coming as it did amid such good news for me and my family? My wife would tell me the lesson is I need to take better care of myself, to which I would reply, “It’s congenital!” In truth, it’s just a reminder of what Peter told the early Christians, whose suffering was several orders of magnitude greater than anything I’ve endured:
Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast (1 Peter 5:8-10).
As I said before, I am a better man and servant of Christ because of my suffering. While I hope there are no more tests to pass, I know if they come, they won’t dislodge me from my faith in Christ, which is “strong, firm and steadfast.”