The irony has not escaped me that a man who writes a blog with the word “Walk” in it, has only been able to walk with the assistance of a cane for over eight months. I don’t understand this period in my life any more than I understood the time, a few years ago, when my knee was cured while others I love and admire required surgery.
I was listening to Joyce Myers last night before falling a sleep. I love that gal. I guess because we both have a mouth on us. She was lecturing people like me about moving on in your circumstances. Control your circumstances. Don’t let them control you. My wise pastor summed it up when my injured back piled on a bad knee, “You’re under attack.” I hope I’m under attack because I’m a threat to the enemy and not because the attack has effectively killed my witness. Good topic for another day. For today, just remember that a man under attack is dangerous so prepare to duck.
Today I am compelled to discuss the things people say to a man with a cane? Now when someone first has a cane, it’s appropriate to ask why. But after nearly nine months, you run out of relevant things to say. So why are you still talking?
For example, “You still have that thing?” Yes. Is the only answer. But isn’t that obvious. Trust me the man who has it knows he still has it and knows to the day how long he has had it. And if you’re trying to be funny, you’re not and the owner of the cane is way past humor about it. He’s not still using it for some deep seated psychological reason and even if he is, asking about it would only fuel his neurosis.
“I think you’re faking.” If you don’t make a living as a psychic, there’s a good reason. You can never know someone else’s pain. Trying praying.
You need to see my doctor. No, I don’t. My medical condition isn’t yours. You don’t know mine. The most important thing for a patient is confidence in his doctor. Please limit your medical advice to those who seek you out for it.
Wow, you’re thinking. Kind of sensitive. What should I say? When asked by a Kairos newbee what he should say to an inmate with whom he saw no common ground, I gave the following sage-like advice, “Just shut up.” Kind of harsh but last weekend we didn’t have the frequent problem of folks talking when they should be listening. We try to tell folks, “Listen, Listen, Love, Love.” The people who love me the most never comment about the cane. And, not surprising, they are the only ones I talk to about it.
A prisoner is more than his sentence or his status. A person with a visible handicap is more than the handicap. He’s trying to live life, make a difference, be all that God calls him to be. We are all more than what is obvious about us. Until we learn that we will be ineffective witnesses for Christ. To witness we need to connect. We need to be much more than surface dwellers.
This post isn’t about me or even canes. It’s about everyone. We all become known for some quality, some aspect of our lives. That’s not who we are. We need to go deeper with each other, past the surface and into the heart. Everyone we know is more than we realize and by being so shallow, we miss so much. That’s a lot more serious than any physical problem, temporary or permanent. Ask Casey Cunningham or anyone who really gets Kairos. He’ll tell you those guys in denim are so much more than he ever imagined. God gives that kind of insight to special men, he specially loves because they love so well. Those are the guys who will take the gospel to the world.
Close your mouth. Open your heart. Listen, Listen, Love, Love.
Then you’ll be a blessing and really be blessed.
Nick
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