For seven long years, I’ve walked with a cane, my steps slowed by chronic back pain. It’s a challenging path I wouldn’t have chosen, but it’s become inescapably mine. In the early days, my prayers were filled with pleas for healing and for this cup to be taken from me. Yet, as the months turned into years, I began to realize that this physical disability, as tricky as it is, has been used by God to cultivate a deep and abiding humility within me. My arrogance shines occasionally; dying to myself is a slow process.
Humility is a tricky virtue. It’s not something we naturally seek out in a world that celebrates strength and self-reliance. But it’s in acknowledging my weakness, in the daily dependence on others that my disability necessitates, that I’ve found a humility that has transformed my relationship with God.
There’s a humbling reality to walking with a cane. It makes me instantly recognizable as someone with limitations. But in this, I’ve discovered an unexpected freedom. I’ve learned to thank God that people still see past the cane and want to engage with and know me. It’s a powerful reminder that my worth and identity are not found in my physical abilities but in being a beloved child of God.
This journey has also deepened my prayer life in ways I never could have anticipated. The daily fluctuations in pain have taught me to lean into God and seek His strength when mine falters. In that seeking, I’ve found a peace that surpasses understanding and has sustained me even on the most challenging days.
Finding community with others who understand the challenges and unexpected blessings of living through troubled times has been a blessing. This is why I felt called to launch Almost Morning; a ministry focused on creating a space for prayer and connection for those walking through difficult seasons. It’s become a hub for others who are wrestling, praying, and seeking God amid their struggles. God has spoken even more recently, saying that prayer should be this ministry’s prime focus, and I am learning to embrace this.
My disability is not something I would have chosen. There are still days when I mourn the loss of the life I had before when the pain feels like more than I can bear. But even in those moments, I am learning to thank God for this thorn, for how it has been used to humble me and focus me on what truly matters.
In 2 Corinthians 12:9, Paul writes, “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” It’s a verse I’ve clung to, a reminder that it’s in our weakness, not our strength, that we most clearly see God’s power at work.
This is not a call to passivity, to accepting a life of pain without seeking healing. I still pray for that healing; I still seek out treatments and therapies that can alleviate my symptoms. But it’s a recognition that even in the unchanging circumstances, God is at work, shaping me, transforming me.
My disability has been a crucible, a fire that has burned away my pride and self-reliance, leaving in its place a humility that has drawn me closer to God. It’s a strange and unexpected blessing I am still learning to embrace. But it’s in this place of weakness that I have found His power and have come to know Him more deeply.
So, with my cane in hand, I will keep walking, praying for healing and the humility to see God at work even in this, for it’s in our weaknesses, not our strengths, that we most clearly see His power. And it’s my hope and prayer that through Almost Morning, others will find the same grace and power in their own struggles.
Let me end this by asking you, “How can I pray for you today?”. I would love to. Reach out to Randy@almostmorning.org.
I love you all.
Randy
