Last week, I indulged in a couple of personal riffs about life before and after my injury.
I found myself asking a question: “What’s the point?” It’s a question that can take us in different directions.
It might indicate despair, as if there is no point in continuing. Believe me, there are times when my clinical depression leads me down that path and I wonder if there’s any point to any of this.
But “What’s the point?” can also be a reminder.
Several times in the Old Testament, people stopped and piled up stones as reminders of significant events. The stones weren’t the point, but the stories they recalled guided memories to God’s faithfulness and to their true purpose.
That, I think, is the real point of looking back at the story of my injury.
We’re reminded of God’s faithfulness despite my lack of faith. We’re reminded that he used horrible circumstances for good despite my lack of effort. We’re reminded of the God inspired dream that led to a 1500-mile handcycle ride and eventually to the FREEDOM TOUR.
And I’m reminded that there is indeed a point to this going forward, even if I can’t or don’t want to perceive it.
What’s the point? Follow Jesus.