A few weeks ago, Brad and I spent seven long days at my parent’s house. Those days were filled with Dora, Blues Clues, Barney, Sprout, Princess coloring pages, markers, crayons and my 21 year old sister. If this were a standardized test, I would ask which of these doesn’t belong. But most of you know me, and know the fact that my 21 year old sister has the mind of a 5 year old. It has been a humbling week full of temper tantrums and outbursts as well as moments that capture your heart. One of those moments happened at the beginning of the week, at the magical word of McDonalds. Now, before you start to think that I am a nice big sister for taking her out to lunch, I need to get real with you. I took her there for 2 reasons: 1) I was hungry and 2) she had a gift certificate.
We were sitting at a table near the play place and I was feeding her a fish sandwich when she looked up at me with those big brown eyes and said in her sweetest and most innocent voice, “Can I play, please?” My heart sank and the following words fell out of my mouth like a ton of bricks. “No. You can’t.” Not because I’m a mean big sister. Or because I want to suck the fun out of her day. But because literally, she can’t. Bound by physical limitations, she is confined to her wheelchair, unable to play like a normal “kid.” The body she has been trapped in and betrayed by since birth is too weak and frail to climb the 20 feet it would take to get to the top of the slide. I remember when she was younger we would take her up. I would go in front, to lead the way and make sure there were no obstacles in her path. And someone else (usually my mother, or even Mimi on occasion) would take the rear, giving her the extra boost she needed to crawl one more step. The tunnels immediately clogged into a traffic jam, with impatient kids literally shoving us aside to reach the top. And then, 20 minutes after our initial ascent, we finally made it to the slide. We would wave from the plastic bubble to dad and others down below. Then we would ride, in tandem, down the pink tube - all of the hard work gone in 30 seconds - back to reality.
Reality, for her consists of home, school, church, and the occasional restaurant or family gathering. And yet her joy is complete. Sure, she has her bad days, but she is one of the most joyful people I know. It doesn’t take plane tickets or diamond rings or (fill in the blank) to make her smile. A pack of washable markers and a $3 coloring book and she’s content. She doesn’t dwell in the sorrow of all that she can’t do. She simply celebrates the things that she can do.
I cannot help but draw a parallel to my own life, only in this case I am the one with the handicap. How often do my limitations keep me from experiencing joy? My limitations, while they might not seem as obvious as my sister’s, have a hold on me that sometimes seems far stronger than the gentle whisper of God. My limitations exist in the form of pride, arrogance, individualism, greed, and power - just to name a few. And more than I care to admit, these are the sentiments that dominate my day. They limit me and keep me, not only from experiencing joy, but from experiencing life to its fullest. They hold me back from my greatest potential. So how do I reconcile this? How do I move from these limitations into an attitude that celebrates the things I can do?
I do not think I am alone in this struggle. I think we, as Christians, battle with these things daily. Some of us may be better at hiding this struggle, but beneath the surface it is there nonetheless. These things have become the “giants of our age,” that must be slain in order to experience God more fully and to live the lives He has called us to live.
Chris Heuertz offers some sound advice in his book Simple Spirituality. He talks about the five stones used to slay these giants that were blocking his view of God. Within the pages, he reminds us what we are for: “In a world of arrogance, we are for humility. In a world of individualism, we are for community. In a world of excess, we are for simplicity. In a world of power, we are for submission. In a world of triumphalism, we are for brokenness.” It is not always easy to remember these things. Sometimes, like my sister, I need someone to go before me and help clear the way. And sometimes I need someone behind me to push me along.
What about you? Do your limitations keep you from experiencing joy?
