Being Healed in the Clutches of Crutches

One of the classic, time-honored criticisms of religion is that people use it as a crutch. Reason would hold that if an image is used to level criticism, the image should be a negative one. This begs the question: at what point in the history of medical science did a crutch become something bad--a detriment to health, rather than an aid to healing?

Last month my ten-year old son sprained his foot while playing at recess. My wife got him a pair of crutches to bear the weight for his injured foot so it could rest and heal. I hope we didn't send him the wrong message.

I seriously doubt that an atheist in the same situation would have told their child to crawl or hop on one foot rather than rely on a crutch. The discrepancy between the image and the reality of crutches reveals a disconnect in the criticism. Physical injuries remind us that there are limits to what we can do by ourselves, and that sometimes we need crutches, canes, walkers, wheelchairs, casts, slings and splints to be restored to health and wholeness. Why can't the same principle apply to emotional and spiritual wounds?

And the idea that crutches are somehow an easy way out of difficulty can hardly be reconciled with the experience of anyone who has ever had to use them to get around.

Of course the criticism does have merit when we turn to religion only as a crutch, taking it out of the closet in times of trouble and then putting it away when we feel fine. But even someone in that circumstance shows a deeper spiritual awareness than one who tries to go it alone--at least they know their limitations and humbly acknowledge a greater power that will come to their aid.

This is one of the many ways sports can offer insights into our relationship with God. We see the glorious potential when spirit and body are wed, pushing each other to excel--as well as the dangers that lurk when they try to exceed their bounds or are not properly prepared. When the weight of an injury becomes too overwhelming, a crutch can bear the weight while healing takes place. An athlete who has relied on a crutch can then become one for others, reminding us that crutches should never be put back in a closet but kept ready to offer to the next teammate who may need them.

And what a beautiful image of God a crutch becomes--supporting weight that is too painful to bear on our own, so we can be healed and eventually walk again. And as we struggle to walk with the injury, the crutches work with us.

In 2004, a man from Ireland named Simon Baker had his right leg amputated below the knee. Four years later he made the Guiness Book of World Records by completing the Dublin Marathon (a 26 mile, 385 yard course) in six hours and 47 minutes--entirely on crutches. He did so to raise money for an organization that helps children with terminal illnesses.

Anyone who believes that relying on a crutch is a sign of weakness may want to visit with Mr. Baker. I'm sure he has quite a different viewpoint.