What would it feel like to lose a limb? I tried to put myself in these patients shoe(s) as I sat in the prosthetics lab taking photos for departmental updates. David (the man in the scrubs) had graciously invited me to come down when he knew he’d have several patients that day. Our prosthetics lab is completely run on donations/support, and we offer anyone who needs it a new prosthetic limb and the physical therapy to use it for free. I love everything that we do at Mission of Hope, but this is one of the coolest parts, in my opinion. After the earthquake, one of the most common injuries was loss of limbs. Prosthetics are a huge need.

Again, I asked, what would it be like to not have a limb? I tried to imagine a part of me suddenly not a part of me anymore. I imagined what it might feel like trying to move something that isn’t there anymore. I sat there and watched David help this man fit his prosthetic on nice and snug. He was a new patient. The man stood up, caught his balance, and then stood. I also tried imagining what it must feel like to have not been able to stand on my own, and then to suddenly be able to again. To feel whole again. I felt for this man what must have been such bliss – it hit me how beautiful this ministry is and how it is but a faint echo of what it feels to experience intimacy and restored, redeemed relationship with Christ.

Colossians 2:10 says “and in Christ you have been brought into fullness.” (NIV) King James Version says “And ye are complete in Him.”
Before Christ I never felt full, I was always wanting. I was always coming up short (more than just my height). I never found what I was looking for. A part of me was missing and I was trying to fill that with just about everything else in this world except for Christ. I wondered why I couldn’t seem to get it to work right for me like I thought I saw it working for just about everyone else.

“You don’t need that, you need Me.” was the gentle whisper I heard two summers ago. I’ll never forget it. I was sitting in the mall somewhere, on my lunch break from work, on the phone with my mom crying. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to change.” I was so fed up with feeling empty, incomplete. His words breathed life into my bones. I’m reminded of the story of Ezekiel in the Valley of Dry Bones (Chapter 37), when God says to him, “Son of man, can these bones live?” Ezekiel replied, “Only You would know.”
Then He said to me, “Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath[a] enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.'”

And that’s what He did. Both in this story, in my own story, and each day in the lives of people all over the world. Right here in Haiti, in the prosthetics lab. What’s even more moving is David’s heart to share the Gospel with these people as they come through. We talked about it, and he essentially told me with great passion, “There’s no point to what I do if they don’t know that there’s a God out there that loves them and gave Himself for them.” Physical wholeness is nothing if you aren’t spiritually whole.

We are complete in Him, lacking nothing.

Psalm 34:9 Fear the Lord, you His holy people, for those who fear Him lack nothing.


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