The visit to the specialist was going well until he asked the question.  Now I’m wondering about lots of things in my life.

I have struggled with back pain for years, but the weeks before my appointment had been especially difficult, with a flare-up that left me mostly housebound.  A visit with my family doctor led to a few tests and a follow-up with the neurologist.

Eyes on the computer screen where the MRI images showed, he asked the question that kept me awake most of that night.

“Did you do something to earn this?”

After a short reply about 35 years of moving pianos, he clarified the question.  He wanted to know if there was one thing I could point to that had brought on the current crisis.

I couldn’t.

It doesn’t mean I didn’t earn it.

I’m going to be a little circumspect here.  Meaning—I think I may creep around the edges of this discussion rather than engaging aggressively.   You’ll understand better as we proceed.

I have never—until now—made decisions regarding actions I would take based on whether they might damage my spine or not.  If I wanted to play soccer with the kids, I did.  If I needed to dig out a stump in the yard, I did.  When the opportunity to help move furniture for friends was presented, I showed up.

And, I really did move pianos for thirty-five years.  Knowing full well that there could be a price to pay, I agreed every time a customer asked.

Did I earn the back pain—the inability to function normally for the last few weeks?

I did.

Not with one action, but with a plethora of them.  A lifetime of insignificant choices, seemingly.  One by one, the transgressions color the injured area with hurt—with unnoticed harm, followed by unnoticed harm, until all at once the body feels nothing else.

I earned this.

Why am I so reluctant to accept responsibility for the situations I find myself in when I have led my life as if I want to be exactly where I am?

The preacher’s son in me wants to hammer this point home and, moving past the tangible world of physicality,  would like to discuss consequences of all kinds.  Relationship problems.  Legal entanglements.  Most any type of abstract ailment you might care to argue about.

I want to.

But, as I said—circumspection is key here.  I know there are many different perspectives and many different situations.  Not all have a villain at whom we can point a finger.  Perhaps, I’ll simply leave the reader to work out the ways in which my doctor’s question might apply to them and their own milieu, physical or otherwise.

Besides, my wandering mind has another question that captures me more completely today.  It did during my recent sleepless night, too.

No, that’s not correct.  It’s not another question.

It’s the same one. Precisely, the same one.

“Did you do something to earn this?”

But, it seems to be applied to a different scenario.

This time, instead of awful pain and the dread and sadness that accompany loss of function, I look at the beautiful family, at the lovely home, at the nice vehicles I have and I wonder.

“Did you do something to earn this?”

Of course, in my head, the immediate answer is yes.  I worked all my life to make a living, to build a legacy.  I labored with my wife to raise our children.  I earned this!

And then, my memory is drawn to the fellow with a sign, standing on the street corner near the grocery store.  Or the folks last winter in the parking lot with two flat tires on the car in which they live.  Or the lady I know who works two full-time jobs just to pay her rent and keep the lights on for her children.

One after the other, they are drawn to mind and I wonder how I have the audacity to say I have earned my ease and comfort when they live in such straits.

My mind is drawn to the phrase traditionally attributed to the English martyr, John Bradford, who is reputed to have said, as he sat in Newgate Prison awaiting his own execution: “There but for the grace of God goes John Bradford.”

He was speaking of murderers being taken to the gallows to be punished for their sins.  I remember wondering, years ago, when I first heard the story, if he was speaking of the execution, or the crime the men had committed to be punished so.

Since my visit with the radiologist, now weeks ago, I have asked again and again (about numerous things), “Did you do anything to earn this?”

There are so many things—and people—in my life that I can only point to grace and mercy as an explanation for their presence.  I could never have earned them myself.

Not if I had worked for an entire lifetime.  Or ten lifetimes.

And again, my mind jumps ahead of itself.  But, this time, I don’t wonder at all.

I think about my relationship with my Creator and all my pride seeps out completely.  If anything, all I’ve earned here is sorrow.  And separation.

But sorrow and separation are not what I have.  Thanks to nothing I have done—not one thing—I have assurance of walking with Him and being followed by His goodness and mercy for all of the days of my life.  And, into eternity.

I am no better than any of the millions taunting God and His followers today.  Not even a little bit better.  I have nothing for which I may stand tall and say, “This is mine and you can’t have it unless you earn it.”

Our Creator’s grace and mercy reach.  They just do.

I earned my back problems.  Perhaps, I even earned that look from the Lovely Lady when I took a second plate of food at lunch yesterday.

But, God’s gifts to me, I could never even begin to earn.

I didn’t do anything to earn this.

But, it’s good.  Really good.

And, it’s yours too—if you want it.

 

“For by grace you are saved through faith, and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God;  it is not from works, so that no one can boast.”  (Ephesians 2:8-9, NET)

“Your worst days are never so bad that you are beyond the reach of God’s grace. And your best days are never so good that you are beyond the need of God’s grace.” (Anonymous)

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2024. All Rights Reserved.