CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 9
It was summer, 1969, two years after my diving accident. I thought of the many things that had happened to me during those two incredible years. In taking inventory of my spiritual life, I found it consisted mainly of fantastic highs and lows—but mostly lows. In fact, I’d recently climbed out of the worst depression I’d experienced since the accident. If I didn’t receive some help, some mature guidance, I knew I’d sink again. It was only a matter of time.
I made as much progress in rehabilitation as was physically possible. It was evident now I’d never walk again; I’d never get the use of my hands again; I’d forever be paralyzed from the neck down, unable to even care for my own personal needs. It was certain now that I’d be forever dependent on others for every physical comfort or function.
This dependency was enough, in itself, to trigger another bout with depression and self-pity, and I talked about my concerns with Diana.
“I have this tremendous feeling of hopelessness and worth-lessness, Di,” I told her. “I’m praying that the Lord will do something in my life to show me that it has meaning.”
“I’ve been praying too, Joni,” she replied, adding, “you know, I’m going to bring a friend over to meet you.”
“Who? Why?”
“Steve Estes. You don’t know him, but he’s at just the opposite side of things spiritually. He has a love for the Lord and knowledge of the Scriptures that really ought to help.”
“Sure,” I volunteered without much enthusiasm.
“He’s a young guy. In fact, he’s still in high school.”
“High school?! Diana! He’s a kid?”
“No—don’t judge. Wait ‘til you meet him.”
Steve Estes came over to the house that evening, and the minute he walked through the door, he shattered all my preconceived notions about him.
Steve loomed tall above my wheelchair, and his piercing green eyes immediately communicated an attitude of warmth and openness. In the introductory conversation that followed, he made me completely at ease. He evidenced maturity and comfortable self-assurance, and one of the first things I noticed was his attitude toward me.
Many people who meet me for the first time seem awkward and uncomfortable with the chair. It intimidates them or causes them to pity me. It usually takes several visits and conversations for us to move past the chair and deal on an ordinary level. Unfortunately, some people never get to that point, and consequently I usually feel self-conscious.
Yet Steve was completely at ease, making me comfortable too. He talked fast, expressing himself with animated gestures, and seemed enthusiastic about everything. As we conversed, he began to share biblical concepts—ideas that were exciting to him and stimulating to me.
“Joni,” he said earnestly, “isn’t it great what God is doing in different people’s lives today?”
What? Who? Where? I was too embarrassed to ask the questions as they popped in my mind. It didn’t matter. Steve answered them for me.
“Kids are experiencing fantastic things in Young Life at Woodlawn. And in our church, we’ve seen God’s Spirit make a lot of people really come alive. One couple was on the verge of divorce—God brought ‘em back together. One guy was heavy into dope, and Christ saved him. A girl I know was really messed up inside, and the Lord straightened her out. Man, you should see her today!” The stories came rapid-fire, and I began to see a new reality to God’s power. The Lord had worked in people’s lives, and the truth and meaning of it spilled over into Steve’s experience and then into mine through Steve’s recounting.
Steve himself had seen God demonstrate His love and power. Steve’s faith, energy, and spiritual maturity were evidently the qualities that made him so different from me. He radiated trust, a love for Christ, and self-assured success. It was amazing to me that a sixteen-year-old could offer so much spiritual insight and wisdom. As a young adult of twenty, I had not come as far. There was something about him, a quality in his life, that I wanted. He radiated confidence, poise, and authority. He spoke convincingly of the Lord and the simple, quiet strength that faith in Christ brings to a life.
“Steve, what you say is like fresh new truth,” I said to him excitedly. “Please come back and tell me more.”
“Sure, I’d like that.”
“Can you help me get what you have? I’m a Christian. But there’s so much I don’t know about the Lord. You have so much more spiritual knowledge than I do.”
“Joni, what would you say if I came over every Wednesday and had a Bible study with you?” he suggested.
“Great,” I answered.
Diana was smiling and nodding. “I’m going to be there too, and maybe Jay and others would like to come. Is that all right?”
“Sure,” Steve smiled. It was strange. Here was a boy, just sixteen, planning to teach a group of young adults about the Christian faith. Yet no one questioned his authority or ability to do so. Even then, he had the eloquence and charisma of a spiritual teacher, a minister. Everyone respected him and responded to his qualities of leadership.
Steve enjoyed the challenge. He said, “Joni, your house really makes me feel comfortable. It’s like a retreat—the atmosphere makes me feel like we’re at L’Abri with Francis Schaeffer.”
He sensed that I—and some of the others—had not really mastered some of the basic Christian doctrines—the character of God, the deity of Christ, sin, repentance, and salvation—and these became the focus of our weekly Bible studies.
“In Ephesians,” he explained, “Paul tells us that we have a fantastic heritage: Christ chose us even before He made the world. He created us, in His image, for a particular purpose. God wants us to grow and excel, to be successful. A lot of people are confused about what true spirituality is. If a guy knows a lot of Bible verses, he’s often thought of as spiritual. But having head knowledge of Bible truth isn’t spirituality. True spirituality is putting God’s Word into practice—making His truth valid by actually doing what He says and not just pointing to it as a nice standard.”
As Steve shared basic Bible doctrine with us, I began to see the shallowness of my own faith and spirituality. My spiritual ups and downs could be charted as easily and accurately as my physical progress. This became something I wanted to overcome, something I wanted to deal with in a positive way. I began to look to the spiritual principles and revolve my life around them for a change.
Alone with God, I recalled how I’d withdrawn from reality and turned my back on Him so often. I confessed, “Lord, I’ve been wrong—wrong to try and shut You out. Forgive me, God. Thank You for this new understanding of Your Word that Steve has shared. Please forgive me and bring me back to You—back into fellowship with You once more.” The Holy Spirit began to convict, then teach me. With each succeeding week, spiritual truth became more real, and I began to see life from God’s perspective.
I learned that God’s Word is a handbook for sensible living; He doesn’t give us instructions without reason.
I saw, in fact, that God tries to warn us in Scripture; for example, sex before marriage is wrong.
There seem to be so many more warnings in the Bible about illicit sex as compared to warnings about other sinful conduct or behavior, such as gossip, envy, lying, and anger. The Bible says of these, “Resist the devil” (James 4:7)—stand and fight and overcome these faults. But as for sexual sin and sensuality, the Bible says, “flee” (1 Cor. 6:18). If I had been obedient and not given in to temptations, I would not have been tormented by longings and desires that now could never be satisfied. They were like an unquenched thirst. No matter how much I shut out reality and lived the experiences in fantasy, it could never be the same. The feelings were shadow substance and unsatisfying.
I had learned some painful lessons from my relationship with Jason. Now I reaped the consequences. I was tortured, but not because I had done something ugly and repulsive. On the contrary, physical love is beautiful and exciting. Yet God knows how it frustrates and torments without the context of marriage. I was lusting after memories. I know other girls who have cried bitter tears over the same thing. They have found that guilt and remorse over sex outside of marriage can cloud and ruin otherwise happy lives and handicap otherwise successful marriages.
But now, with God’s help and forgiveness, I repented and put all that behind me. I prayed for His direction and the mental willpower to think His thoughts and not wallow in self-pity and lustful memories and fantasies.
I concentrated on the fact that, once and for all, I had to forget the past and concentrate on the present, trusting God, claiming the promise of Scripture that God separates our sins from us forever (Ps. 103:12).
I decided to rid myself of as many reminders of the past as I could. I gave away my cherished hockey and lacrosse sticks, sold my horse, Tumbleweed, and got rid of all the other things that tied me to the old memories.
Now I was forced to trust God. I had no alternative but to thank Him for what He was going to do with my future.
As I began to pray and depend on Him, He did not disappoint me. Before, I’d say, “Lord, I want to do Your will—and Your will is for me to get back on my feet or, at least, get my hands back.” I was deciding His will for me and rebelling when things didn’t turn out as I planned.
Now I wept for all those lost months filled with bitterness and sinful attitudes. I prayed for an understanding of His will for my life. What was God’s will for my life? To find out, I had to believe that all that had happened to me was an important part of that plan. I read, “In everything, give thanks, for this is the will of God concerning you.” God’s will was for me to be thankful in everything? Okay. I blindly trusted that this was truth. I thanked God for what He did and what He was going to do.
As I concentrated on His positive instruction from the Bible, it was no longer necessary to retreat from reality. Feelings no longer seemed important. Fantasies of having physical feeling and touch were no longer necessary because I learned that I was only temporarily deprived of these sensations. The Bible indicates that our bodies are temporal. Therefore, my paralysis was temporal. When my focus shifted to this eternal perspective, all my concerns about being in a wheelchair became trivial.
Steve showed me other evidence in the Bible that God’s perspective is different from ours. In Hebrews 12:1, we are encouraged to endure life with patience. Second Corinthians 5:1-5 reminds us that our bodies are the temporary dwellings of our spirits and personalities. Philippians 1:29 says some are called to suffer for Him—maybe even suffer “fiery ordeals.” As the author of 1 Peter expressed it: “And now, dear friends of mine, I beg you not to be unduly alarmed at the fiery ordeals which come to test your faith, as though this were some abnormal experience. You should be glad, because it means that you are called to share Christ’s sufferings. One day, when he shows himself in full splendour to men, you will be filled with the most tremendous joy” (1 Peter 4:12, 13 PHILLIPS.) Steve took me through the Scriptures and helped me fit my pain and suffering into this perspective.
“Those who suffer,” explained Steve, “should concentrate on doing right and commit their lives and souls to His care. We should all do that, but the Bible makes a point of telling those who suffer fiery trials to especially live for Christ.”
In my fantasies and daydreams, I had sought the reality of past experiences because I wanted to avoid the truth of the present. Yet, even the present isn’t true reality. There will, one day, be an existence for us that will be the ultimate in reality and experience, and we can understand this truth only by faith. What we see by faith is true reality.
We were all learning and growing through Steve’s late-night sessions at our home. Diana continued to live with us and went back to college in the fall to study psychology. One of the “games” she learned in this course was role-playing to achieve better understanding of people and various situations.
One night after our study time, we all switched roles and “walked in each other’s shoes” for awhile. Diana and I changed places. Someone carried me to the sofa while Diana sat in the wheelchair.
“You know, this is strange,” remarked Diana, as she played me. “You people seem afraid of the wheelchair. Everyone seems to keep his distance. There seems to be a space around the chair that no one is willing to intrude on.”
“That’s interesting,” I added. “I was just thinking how people seem less awkward to me when I’m sitting on the couch.”
We discussed the chair and what it meant to different people. The typical reaction from strangers was condescension toward one who, to them, was somehow inferior. I suppose, as I’ve said before, some people think that if you are physically handicapped, you are mentally deficient too.
Diana, Jay, and Dick were so used to the chair that they took a casual attitude toward it. So casual, in fact, that walking with me was often a game. They’d push me one-handed or give me a shove and walk beside the chair. They often did this to puncture the stuffy, provincial attitudes some people have about wheelchairs. For example, the chair is only about two feet wide, but on sidewalks people clear a path wide enough for a car to drive through. Their subtle awkwardness only adds to the confusion and frustration of persons in wheelchairs. It makes them feel clumsy and fat.
People often stare without meaning to, especially when the chair is being wheeled too fast (at least in their opinion). Apparently, popular opinion dictates that a person in a wheelchair should be treated like a load of priceless antiques.
Older women often came up to me in a department store or on the street, clucked their tongues, and said something like, “Oh, you poor, dear, brave, brave girl.” I’d smile politely but often felt like telling them my real feelings—which weren’t always charming!
However, I came to terms with myself. If others had a problem with the chair, I tried to do everything I could to make them feel at ease. At the Bible studies, I had Dick carry me to the sofa. Out of sight, the chair no longer intimidated people. Sitting, with my legs propped up on an ottoman, I looked like a “normal” person.
What began as a simple experiment in practical psychology became a regular habit for me. I enjoyed being one of the crowd in this way and was glad it made everyone more comfortable.
Diana tried another experiment in role-playing. This time, I saw my situation as others do. She sat in the chair, and I was on the sofa. “Joni, I’d like a glass of water,” Diana said, pretending to be helpless.
Taking her role, I saw something I’d never noticed from my chair. I was annoyed.
“Gee—I’m really engrossed in this TV program. Can you wait until the commercial?” I asked.
“Well—I guess so,” sighed Diana.
Everyone smiled knowingly. I said, “Is that the way I really am? Oh, good grief—I’m sorry. I see how selfish I can be without even knowing. I’ll try to be more considerate of you guys from now on.”
Being out of the wheelchair was also good for my self-confidence as a woman. In the chair, sometimes I felt stiff and awkward, but sitting here on the couch, I felt relaxed and at ease. One evening when we were watching TV, Dick stretched out and put his head in my lap. I managed to take off my arm brace and began to stroke his hair with my hand. Of course, I couldn’t feel anything, but Dick could. He relaxed and enjoyed the normal attention of a girl running her fingers through his hair.
These were pleasant moments of growing and learning, offset only by the fact of Kelly’s sickness. She was growing weaker almost daily. But her situation, as well as my own, were made easier as I began to grow in faith and understanding.
Steve continued to come, sometimes several times a week. His Bible-based teaching of simple doctrinal truth was becoming a part of my life. Before, I had accepted doctrine pretty much without question. But it was not real in my experience. Its truth had not been tested. In my earlier depression at Greenoaks, I had examined other philosophical and theological points of view. It was no longer possible for me to accept doctrine without question, but even as I questioned, answers were provided. Steve explained Bible truth in such a way that it was as if the Lord spoke directly to me.
I saw Steve’s coming into my life as a specific answer to the desperate prayer I had prayed just before I met him.
We discussed the second coming of Jesus Christ. I learned that one day Jesus would return to earth and I’d get a brand-new body. Christ would give me a glorified body that could do everything I could do before—probably even more. Some day I would have feelings again! I won’t be paralyzed forever.
This new perspective made it unnecessary for me to retreat into fantasy trips or daydreams any more.
Steve helped me end my cycle of peaks and valleys of spiritual progress. “Set your heart on things above,” he read from Colossians 3, “and not on the passing things of earth.” Since I could see that one day I’d have a renewed body, it became easy for me to focus my desires on heavenly, eternal things. I had already lost temporal things, the use of my earthly body, so it was easy to accept this truth. Although “condemned” to a wheelchair, I knew one day I’d be free of it.
“Steve,” I said to him, “I’m beginning to see the chair more as a tool than as a tragedy. I believe God is going to teach me something more about this!”
Steve introduced me to the process of putting God’s Word into practice, of acting on His promises and commands. I would read something in the Bible and consciously say, “This is God’s will.” Intellectually, I understood the meaning of it. Emotionally, I had to put this new truth to the test, to prove it by my own will. “Yes, this is God’s will,” adding, “for me.”
“Lord, I’m trusting You to bring me through all this victoriously,” I reminded Him. Scripture took on personal meaning. Job had suffered, so he could speak convincingly to my needs. Jeremiah had suffered, and I learned from him too. Since Paul had endured beatings, shipwrecks, imprisonment, and ill health, I related to his sufferings as well. I began to see what the Bible calls a “fellowship of suffering.”
I memorized Scripture portions that had great meaning to me. Understanding these passages that spoke to my needs enabled me to better trust God with my will as well as my life. Even when distressing or despondent times came along, I could depend on the fact that “He knows what He is doing,” as daddy frequently said.
Through memorizing God’s promises, I learned that the Lord would take me out of training in this school of suffering—but in His own good time. The apostle Paul wrote that the key was to keep forever striving. Even he, at the peak of his life and commitment to Christ, admitted that he had not arrived spiritually.
Probably, I thought, my suffering and training is a lifelong process. It will end only when I go to be with Christ.
There was a lot of catching up for me to do. If life was going to mean anything, I’d have to learn everything I could—not just spiritual truth, but academic understanding as well. I’d have to find a way to make some kind of contribution to society.
Diana and Jay were eager to help me get back into circulation, up-to-date with the outside world. Seeing people and going places were refreshing and stimulating. By now, I was even comfortable in my chair, used to the stares and awkwardness of others. Being outside was a pleasant experience to my senses that summer. Shut in various hospitals for two years, I’d almost forgotten all there was to see, hear, and smell in the outdoors. These experiences saturated my starved senses. But as a result of such sensory shock, I tired easily and was forced to rest after these outdoor trips.
Steve tried to encourage me to verbalize my new understanding—to put this new truth into practice. He asked me to share my faith, the testimony of my Christian experience, with the youth group at his church. The thought of speaking to fifteen teenagers terrified me. My natural tendency then was to be shy, so when the time came, I was really nervous. I looked out at those polished, self-assured faces and was almost too petrified to speak.
“I…uh…I’m Joni Eareckson…and…uh…uh…” My mind went blank. What was I supposed to say? The teens were polite and didn’t break into snickers or mocking. “I…I…uh…I want to tell you…uh…what Christ means to me. Uh…you see…He is very…uh…real to me. I’ve…uh…had…uh…lots of troubles…uh…but I…I mean He… He’s been faithful. And uh…I hope you know Him as I do.”
My throat was dry, my face was flushed, and I couldn’t think of any way to continue, so I merely dropped my gaze and said nothing.
After an awkward, terrifying pause, Steve picked up on what I said. Somehow, he put the pieces together and made sense of it. I was both relieved and impressed that he could salvage the situation.
Later I said firmly, “I never want to do that again as long as I live!”
“Nonsense,” Steve countered. “You just need experience. I was the same way the first time a friend asked me to give my testimony at one of his street-corner evangelism meetings.”
“Really?”
“I stammered all over the place. I thought my tongue was swollen.”
“But I don’t have your gift for speaking—your presence of mind. I just can’t.”
“You should go to college,” he said, slapping my knee good-naturedly. “You could attend classes in your wheelchair at the University of Maryland. They have quite a few handicapped people there. You shouldn’t have any trouble,” Steve suggested.
“Hm-m. Maybe you’re right.”
He grinned and nodded.
“All right,” I conceded, “if Jay and Diana will help, I’ll go to college this fall.”
In September, I began attending a few classes at the university. Jay or Diana went with me and took notes for me. I signed up for Oral Interpretation, Voice Diction, and Public Speaking. My speeches were related to things I knew about and could discuss easily: relating to people with handicaps, accepting the wheelchair, and my Christian experience.
Slowly I developed confidence, especially as I saw that people were interested in what I was saying. Deep inside, I sensed that God was preparing me; that somehow, someday, I’d be able to use what I was learning.
At the same time, I began to understand spiritual truth in meaningful ways. This new understanding gave me victory over past sin, temptation, and depression. God had given me the means to control my sinful nature when I realized the importance of His reality and the present.
The fantasies ended. Forever. With God’s complete fulfillment, I didn’t need to relive memories from the past. I had come to the place where my body no longer needed the sensations I once thought so terribly important. God had taken me beyond the need for feeling and touching. Yet, He saw to it that, whenever possible, I could enjoy such things as the feel of a cashmere sweater on my cheek, a hug from someone I care about, the reassuring movement of a rocking chair, and the sensations He brought every time I went outside—wind, sun, even rain on my face. And I was grateful for all He gave.
It is important to remember that the promise “God causes all things to work together for good” only applies to those who love God, those who have been born into His family. However, due to our sin and rebellion we are alienated from God and subject to His judgment. Praise God, though, that He sent His Son, Jesus, to be judged on the cross—paying the death penalty for my sin and your sin! If we truly trust that our punishment was borne by Christ and obey Him as our Lord, we can be assured of eternal life and the promise of Romans 8:28.
It is my hope that in the course of reading this book, the Holy Spirit has enlightened your heart and mind to these truths. Jesus is alive and His power is available to you…He proves Himself daily in my life, and what more couldn’t He do in your life! Are you a part of God’s heavenly family? For indeed, I hope one day we shall meet in glory.
Joni
PTL