Chapter One
HARD TIMES HAPPEN
April 26, 2003, started out as a normal day.
Aron Ralston, a twenty-seven-year-old climbing expert,
drove his pickup truck to a remote place outside Canyonlands
National Park in southeastern Utah. Then he rode his mountain
bike fifteen miles to begin his climb in a rugged, narrow
canyon. It was supposed to be an easy Saturday adventure,
but it turned out to be much more than he expected.
After climbing for a few hours, he was reaching for a
handhold when an eight-hundred-pound boulder shifted,
dropping two feet and crushing his right arm. Aron was
trapped more than seventy feet above the canyon floor. The
pain was excruciating. He needed help, but he knew there
was nobody within miles.
Aron knew that in order to survive he had to keep his head
and try to move the boulder. He applied ropes and anchors
and brute strength, but the rock would not budge. Night fell,
and the temperature dropped to near freezing. Aron wasn't
sure whether he was shivering from panic or pain or cold.
The next morning he reconsidered his situation: He could do
nothing but wait.
That day he ran out of food. On Tuesday he ran out of
water. On Wednesday he could smell his own flesh rotting. If
something didn't happen quickly, Aron knew he would die.
On Thursday morning he decided upon drastic action. With
his free left hand he tied a tourniquet around his right arm.
From his shorts pocket he produced a small knife. Then with a
gritty, mind-boggling determination he focused his attention
and methodically cut off his right arm. Then he lowered himself
to the canyon floor and walked five miles until he found help.
"I've never seen anybody that had this much desire and
tenacity to stay with it and stay alive," said one of his rescuers.
Aron knew he was in trouble and faced his situation headon.
He hadn't expected a crisis, but when it came he dealt
with it. Because of his determination and refusal to give up,
Aron not only survived, but he grew strong through his ordeal.
Aron says, "I had to make a decision to go forward, not knowing
what was going to come."
When asked what was the most significant lesson he
learned, Aron said, "We each have it within ourselves, through
courage, faith and perseverance, to turn adversity into possibility."
Few of us will face hardship as traumatic as Aron's, yet adversity
is certain to visit us all. Troubles and challenges are a part of
life on planet earth. An old country pastor once said that there are
only two types of people in the world-those who are wounded
and those who are liars. I believe he had a point. We all face
difficult, unfair, painful situations, and most leave their mark.
So the important issue is not whether we will be injured,
but rather:
Which wounds most need my attention?
How are my wounds affecting me?
Where am I on the path of healing?
How can my wounds make me a stronger person?
How can God use my wounds for good?
When we slow down and force ourselves to be honest,
we often realize that all is not as it should be in our lives.
Certain emotions such as anger, anxiety, fear, depression,
insecurity, irritability, defensiveness, confusion, negativity,
melancholy, and hopelessness are potential signals that
somewhere deep in our hearts is a wound that is still tender.
Some of us know how to assess our wounds and what
sort of attention each one needs, but many of us don't. So
let's gain a little better understanding of the varieties of hurt.
NINE KINDS OF WOUNDS
While the categories of male hurts are numerous, here are
some that I've found to be most common:
Physical wounds. Your body is what allows you to operate
in this world. When it betrays you-through disease, injury,
accident, genetics, or aging-it forces you to face life differently.
These wounds are like shrapnel. They limit you and your
potential, temporarily or permanently.
Bad choices. Sometimes we make selfish, stupid, or impulsive
decisions that lead to painful consequences. We all have
our regrets. If we could only go back and choose differently,
most of us would do so in a moment. But here we stand in the
midst of a mess, with no one to blame but ourselves. Which
only makes the pain worse.
Verbal wounds. Words can be as painful as any physical
wound, sometimes even more so. When grenades are hurled,
intentionally or unintentionally, by those we respect or trust,
the hurt can cut us to the core. Words of discouragement,
rejection, or ridicule can easily squash us, stealing our confidence
and our dreams.
Social wounds. We all want to be liked and respected. So
when we are humiliated, excluded, or attacked by others, the
resulting wound is real. Yet we frequently tell ourselves we
shouldn't care. We try to act tough and ignore our wounds. But
this does not ease the pain. Injurious treatment by people takes
its toll on us, whether we wish to admit it or not.
Family wounds. Wounds from anyone can hurt. But if you
feel rejected, disrespected, or injured by family members, it
can be devastating. You expect support and caring from your
parents, wife, and children. When parents turn against you,
when your marriage falls apart, when children rebel, the pain
can be intense. In some cases, you may feel as though your
whole world is caving in.
Spiritual wounds. When we feel hurt by a church, a fellow
believer, the clergy, or God Himself, the wound can lead
to overwhelming spiritual loneliness and depression. We
conclude that if God or His people wound us, He must be
against us or not care about us. And who can stand against
God? At this point, our wounds feel like a curse, with no remedy
and no hope of healing.
Financial wounds. The ability to provide for one's family's
basic needs is a part of being a man in our culture. Financial
crisis and the need for financial help from others usually make
a man feel as though he hasn't met one of his life's central obligations.
A sense of failure haunts and burdens him. This can
easily carry with it guilt, humiliation, and self-reproach.
Occupational wounds. An old saying declares that work
makes the man. As guys, too often we wrap up our identity in
our jobs. So the wound cuts deep if we're fired, laid off, unemployed,
stuck in a dead-end job, or just don't like what we do.
For the same reason, our sense of identity takes a hit if we feel
harassed, ignored, minimized, abused, or powerless on the job.
Emotional wounds. Each of the above wounds carries
with it an emotional component. Sometimes the original
wound is buried so deep beneath the feelings that we can't
even find it. We are only aware of a deep, overwhelming,
anonymous ache and a cloud of emotions surrounding it.
These emotions confuse our thinking, blur our judgment, and
too frequently block our awareness of God's caring presence
with us.
Most wounds are some combination from among these
nine types. No matter what the category of wounding, every
hurt reminds us that we live in a broken world and cannot
make it on our own. Wounds keep us from a positive, accurate
sense of who we are and may lead us into a downward spiral
pattern of low self-estimation.
The truth is, each one of us is a package containing great
potential and great limitations. The book of Genesis teaches
that humankind was made in the image of God and from the
dust of the earth. Our Creator is well aware of our humble origins-and
always takes them into account. David tells us that
"he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are
dust" (Psalm 103:14, NIV).
Our spirit longs to soar, but our wounds tether us to the
ground. They hold us back and force us to lean on the One who
can truly heal all wounds. "Listen to my cry," says the psalmist.
"For my life is full of troubles" (Psalm 88:2-3). We all have our
troubles, and each one has the potential to create a wound.
Just the other day I was speaking to a handsome, confident
CEO of a successful company about why his relationships fail
and he feels so empty inside.
"Why don't you tell me about the greatest hurt in your
life?" I asked.
"I don't have any hurts," he laughed. "After all, I make ten
times more money than you. I can get anything I want."
"Tell me about your childhood."
"It was tough, but it taught me character," he responded glibly.
"What made it so tough?"
He then told me how his father had abandoned the family
when he was four. His mother did the best she could as she
went through five more husbands and a multitude of
boyfriends.
"Were you close to any of them?"
"No," he said thoughtfully. "They were mostly jerks who
didn't want to have anything to do with me. I was a stupid nuisance
that was just in the way." He wiped something from his
eye and demanded, "Why are you wasting my time with
ancient history? Let's get down to business."
"I think we just did," I said. "As a kid you felt rejected at a
crucial time when you needed security. That left a gaping hole
in your heart. You stuck a bandage on the wound, but it hasn't
yet healed."
"But how can that be?" He looked at me intently. "It's
been thirty years!"
"Most memories fade over time," I explained, "but traumas,
no matter how old, tend to stay raw unless treated."
Certain wounds touch the very core of who you are.
Personality, situation, or age can increase a man's vulnerability.
The intensity or duration of the injury, or the identity of the
offender, can also make them more painful. For a variety of possible
reasons, these soul-shaping wounds are more traumatic
than other difficulties we may face.
Most memories are stored in our minds chronologically. As
time passes, even if the facts and images remain vivid, the
emotional intensity softens, and they have less impact on the
here and now. Traumas, however, are stored topically. This
means the pain does not fade with time. When we focus on
this type of wound, whether the pain occurred long ago or yesterday,
it packs the same intensity as when it first happened.
HOW IS YOUR WOUND IMPACTING YOU?
Facing your hurts head-on and recognizing how they might be
affecting you is the first step toward healing. You may have
become so accustomed to your wound that you're hardly
even aware of it. Absence from awareness, however, doesn't
mean nonexistence. That deep hurt you've covered up,
denied, and run away from can still affect your life in many
not-so-subtle ways.
Here is a diagnostic list of twenty common symptoms of
emotional trauma. As you read through the list, be cautious of
the tendency to rationalize, minimize, or explain away your
symptoms. Try not to dismiss your responses to pain with
statements like, "This is just the way life is," or "Everybody has
their hurts," or "I could be doing a lot worse." Which of these
show up in your life?
1. You are surprised by spontaneous emotions with
no apparent cause.
2. You find yourself eating when you aren't hungry.
3. You are anxious about taking risks.
4. You have difficulty trusting people, even yourself.
5. At times you don't like yourself.
6. Feelings of guilt and shame can be overwhelming.
7. You struggle with periods of deep anger or depression.
8. The world doesn't feel like a safe place.
9. You wish you could live your life over again.
10. You feel like something is wrong with you.
11. You are easily startled.
12. You feel isolated and detached from others.
13. You do certain things to try to numb yourself to pain.
14. Your future doesn't seem very positive.
15. It's hard to let go of the past.
16. You're always expecting something bad to happen.
17. Life doesn't seem fair.
18. Nightmares, flashbacks, or emotional flooding
can leave you upset for days.
19. Feeling safe and in control is very important
to you.
20. It's hard for you to fully relax.
THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE
Wounds are a part of reality, and reality frequently serves up
hurt and harshness in large portions. When I stood on the
beach at that lowest point of my life, I cried out to God but
heard no response. It was at that moment I turned to wise and
godly counsel. Surely they could give me hope. They told me
to pray more and read Scripture more and trust God more.
These are good things. Every one of them.
But they did nothing to ease my pain.
Instead, my friends' answers felt like salt and sand rubbed
deeper into the wound. My "counselors" gave me formulas.
But nobody listened. Nobody came alongside me. Nobody
encouraged me. They gave their quick fixes and kept their
distance. I shook my head and walked away, feeling alone
and abandoned.
Coming out of this situation, I became determined never
to leave a wounded man behind. I wanted to learn how to
encourage those in pain and do what I could to pull them
off their battlefields for first aid and healing. In Jeremiah's
darkest hour he heard God say, "I will give you back your
health and heal your wounds" (30:17). This is the promise we
all yearn for when we feel most desperate and hopeless.
The twenty-two-year-old Charles Spurgeon was considered
the most popular preacher of his day. By the time of his
death, at fifty-seven, he was regarded by many as the greatest
preacher of all time. Between these two dates, Charles
experienced persecution, suffering, and discouragement.
Someone once wrote, "There are few men that would not
have succumbed to . the difficulties which had surrounded
him." Yet he preached every chance he got, drawing large
crowds. And he wrote nonstop throughout his career.
Charles believed that our wounds make us better people.
He wrote, "Trials teach us what we are; they dig up the soil,
and let us see what we are made of." He also wrote, "Many
men owe the grandeur of their lives to tremendous difficulties."
At thirty-three, his beloved wife became an invalid who
could rarely leave her bed. Shortly after this, he suffered from
a series of ailments that stole his good health and left him in
severe chronic pain the rest of his life. Then came the darkness
of depression, which left him "so low that I could weep
by the hour like a child and yet I knew not what I wept for."
Regardless of his wounds, Charles marched forward. He
refused to give up, he would not step down, and fading away
was not an option. His philosophy was always strong and
clear: "All that befalls us on our road to heaven is meant to fit
us for our journey's end." After all, "The Lord gets his best soldiers
out of the highlands of affliction."
(Continues.)
