This semester has been a sem full of cuts and bruises – wounds which were really not that different from the scrapes that had grazed my elbows and knees when I was an elementary student learning to ride a bicycle.
I was nine years old when I first encountered and attempted to ride a bicycle. I did not ride a bicycle successfully on my first try, unlike – much to my frustration – my younger brother. In fact, it took me an uncountable number of falls, weeks of trial and error, and a neverending incurrence of cuts and bruises before I was finaly able to ride one successfully. The physical and emotionl wounds stung each time that I fell, yet I was determined to ride the bike. The bruises paid off when, at long last, I was finaly able to feel the wind on my face as I sped along the bicyle path near our home.
The cuts and bruises that I had incurred this semester were not physical ones. They were emotional ones that had littered across my heart. Yet, much like the physical ones that resulted from my bicycle experience, these also resulted from times that I had lost my balance and fell.
The cuts resulting from that memorable LTS demonstration… the bruises added each time that I would return home after a depressing CMSC 21 lab…the tiny gashes from my disappointing exam scores… the deep sores involving my taking up two final examinations when I would have been exempted if I had only worked hard enough to earn another 2 %… the frustrating cuts that came out during those SLEEPLESS nights that I spent trying to work out bugs from my programming assignments… the scrapes produced by the loss of my wallet along with my atm card, school id, cash and form 5… the deep wounds inflicted when God was teaching me about patience, humility, submission, focus, hearing, service and letting go…
Some were deeper than the others and some were just mere scrapes. Yet all hurt. A LOT. And it hurt becuase most were THERE because I FELL.
Each time that I fell, I fell because I kept trying to do things by my own strength. Each fall would result to a new wound, yet each fall also provided a new opportunity to rise up (by the grace of God) and do things over – this time by His strength alone.
I believe that God allowed me to feel the pain of those wounds for a reason. I believe that without those wounds, the lessons He intended me to learn would not have sunk in as deeply as they had. Not only that, I also believe I had to be bruised in order for me to truly understand and appreciate the success that results from failure.
Yes, those cuts and bruises did hurt a lot. Yet, I am grateful. Grateful for the lessons and grateful because God was always there, enabling me to survive through all the pain.
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