Rev. Dr. Devin Strong

Spirit of Peace Lutheran Church

Anyone who meets me face to face notices immediately that I do life from a wheelchair. I was born with Cerebral Palsy, a neuromuscular condition that keeps the brain communicating with certain parts of the body. Many people with CP have it much worse. I am one of the lucky ones. Later, I suffered a spinal cord injury (SCI) in my neck.

I have been using a manual wheelchair for 22 years.

Most people think that the hardest part of being in a wheelchair is not being able to walk. They are wrong. For me, the hardest part of my disability is that from the moment my feet hit the floor in the morning, it takes me an hour to be ready to face the world. Others can jump in the shower and throw on clothes in minutes, but routine bathroom stuff and dressing take me forever. This is lost time that I can’t sleep, work, or play, and if I have an early morning appointment, I must get up at 0-dark-thirty to get ready. I hate it!

This is my challenge. I know that you have yours.

Whatever ache, trauma, or grief that you carry in your life surely has practical consequences for you, just as mine does for me. I firmly believe that we shouldn’t bury these frustrations or pretend that they don’t exist. It is important to name the pain in our lives, so we don’t live from there.

My disability also comes with blessings. One of them is that everyone remembers the preacher in the wheelchair!

Along with my 33 years in ministry, there were several years in my career when I was preaching in a lot of different pulpits across the Atlanta area. I have run into people who know me in bars (yes, I visit them, occasionally!), stadiums, and random parking lots. Because so many people notice me, I get to have a little more impact on people’s lives. When people see my wheelchair, they are much more likely to open up to me about their own struggles, and that is a gift. You know similar gifts. The worst things that have happened in your life have left behind new skills and new wisdom.

There are also surprises.

My disability has taught me that you and I are strongest at the broken places. When I am full of myself, I don’t learn much, but when I am weak and vulnerable, God can do a lot with me and through me.

I wish that growth came on the easy days, but the reality is that my times of greatest spiritual and personal maturity happen when I am on my knees. Fortunately for me, my disability keeps me humble, just as your struggles do for you. We don’t have to like it or be happy about the lousy things that happen to us. Nobody does! But if we keep our eyes open on the tough days, we just might notice more of the Almighty’s surprises.

Obviously, trauma hurts.

Our God does not cause it or wish it on anyone, but the Lord of Love uses the awful things in life to bless us, surprise us, and change us.