“I just felt like running.” -Forrest Gump

Keep up the good work.

Those were the last words my grandpa (Crampa) said to me two days before he passed away. I had recently undergone ligament reconstruction on my knee, and Crampa knew a thing or two about knee surgery since he had both of his replaced. He was a loving, funny, supportive, fantastic grandfather. He was sarcastic, a lover of OU football, and a staunch believer in physical therapy. Even towards the end stages of his battle with Parkinson’s Disease, he still wanted to do physical therapy to regain some strength. My dad would go over to be with Crampa and FaceTime me so we could chat about my post-op knee mobility and what degree of knee bend I was at. He wanted to make sure I was taking PT seriously. I was. Just like he would want me to be. I told him I was ahead of schedule and progressing nicely. “Keep up the good work, kid.”

His death was a hard blow and a grief I’ve not known much of. I loved him dearly and miss him every day. I cherish those last words he said to me for many reasons. I was definitely going to keep up the good work and get my knee back to 100 percent. 

Two months after surgery, I was doing an exercise in PT when I felt a snap in my knee that struck me with pain I’ve never felt before. I fell to the ground, trying not to throw up from the intense rush of pain. After a stat MRI, I was told I had broken my kneecap and the anchor holding the new ligament in place had dislodged somewhat. I needed another surgery. This cannot be happening to me. I was doing so well. That’s all I could think of.

Despondent. Upset. Angry. Frustrated. Dejected. Those are all good words for what I was feeling.

After the second surgery, my husband and I were told there was a hairline fracture right next to the larger anchor that was drilled into my kneecap to hold the ligament in place. The strain of PT caused the fracture to grow and eventually break my kneecap in two. The surgeon said this complication was very rare and there was only a one percent chance of something like this happening. Great. 

Of course, this would happen to me. These defeatist words took me captive after surgery. I’ve had physical and mental struggles my whole life, none of which have been easy to get through. Why would I expect to have major knee surgery and get through it without any complications or setbacks? Complications, setbacks, hurdles — that was my life. Nothing in my life comes easy.

“Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on (dioko) to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Phil. 3:12-14 (ESV)

diókó

This word was preached masterfully at church this past weekend by Pastor Ross, my favorite preacher at my church (don’t tell anyone else). Today was the first day I went to church after the second surgery, and praise God, I went! My soul was weary, and I needed these words to press on for the sake of my Savior. I can’t help but think “keep up the good work” and “dioko” were not put in my life during this season by accident. The Holy Spirit is working in me.

In this section, Paul compares the journey of the Christian life to running a long race. It is not a quick sprint to the finish line, but a steady and grueling choice to put one foot in front of the other until the race is done. Pastor Ross explained that Paul presses on for a reason in his Christian life. Yes, he does want to make it to heaven where Jesus is, but even more than that, Paul desires to live in the fullness of everything Jesus has for him because Christ made him his own. Having that relationship with Christ propelled Paul to keep going, keep striving, keep setting his eyes on Christ when things in this life on earth were hard.

The setback with my knee and having to endure a longer recovery is just a taste of the setbacks I have had regarding my mental health over the years. Do you know how many times I wanted to give up? Do you know how many times I wanted to quit the race because, metaphorically, my legs were shutting down and I couldn’t breathe? Countless times.

As Pastor Ross described it, dioko means you feel like you can’t take another step, but you do it anyway. There have been numerous times in my life when I have described to others the agony of not being able to take another step. Like my legs were knee deep in quickly hardening concrete. But you always do, they would say. That used to anger me. I didn’t want to take another step! I was done! Depression, anxiety, stress — it was all too much for me. Why was it a good thing that I took another step when I knew another agonizing one was on its way? Eventually, I was going to run out of strength to keep taking brutal steps in the race of life.

All glory to God, after years of patiently enduring, practicing spiritual disciplines, growing closer to Jesus Christ, understanding the fullness of His love, and after hearing the encouraging words of Ross — I know the answer. 

Because Christ Jesus has made me his own

I did not have this scripture in my head all the years I suffered so deeply that I felt like I could not go on, but the Holy Spirit had these words in my heart and was whispering them to my almost deaf ears, dioko, Kayla.

 As I sat in a cold, artificially lit psych room with a growling stomach and an absence of hope… dioko.

As I underwent ECT treatments for the first time, not knowing if there would be permanent damage or permanent healing… dioko.

As I anxiously suffered through a psychiatrist yelling at me because I asked if I could go home from the psychiatric facility… dioko.

As I listened to well-intended believers tell me to trust in God more and just get on with life, which led me to feel great shame…  dioko.

As I remembered my sins and distance from God that added to trials and suffering… dioko.

And even as I endured extreme physical pain after another knee surgery and cried out angrily to God Why me?!… dioko.

Just like I will never forget the last words my grandfather said to me — the encouraging and loving words from a wonderful yet flawed human being — how much more will I never forget this special, Spirit-breathed word, dioko, that will keep coming up in my life because of the joy, encouragement, and abundant love that Jesus Christ has made me his own. 

‘Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.’ Hebrews 12:1-2

Heavenly Father, I pray for those weary souls who feel like they cannot press on any longer. I pray they taste and see your tender love and mercy. I pray that they can see the finish line up ahead and know that Jesus is right there beside them, running with them. Give them courage and faith to keep going because Christ has made them his own. Thank you for the profound and amazing words of Paul that help us all as believers to press on to You. You are our great and rich reward and deserve all the glory. Amen.